tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90727464188545002302018-03-20T11:15:32.110-07:00Shaking Leaves: My Adventures in GenealogyWendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.comBlogger167125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-75428563643071727312013-07-08T08:01:00.000-07:002013-07-08T22:09:21.112-07:00Amanuensis Monday: How Claus Schlichtmann Came to America<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UeNXH-tRqEY/UcD7Nw59FkI/AAAAAAAARDM/IILq86VORHU/s1600/Claus+and+Anna+Schlichtmann+-+3x+G+grandparents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UeNXH-tRqEY/UcD7Nw59FkI/AAAAAAAARDM/IILq86VORHU/s320/Claus+and+Anna+Schlichtmann+-+3x+G+grandparents.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Amanuensis Monday is a blogging prompt used by many fellow genealogy bloggers. An Amanuensis is a person employed to write what another dictates or to copy what has been written by another.</i></span></span><br /><br />A couple of weeks ago, I shared a <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2013/06/not-so-wordless-wednesday-ggg.html">newly-discovered (by me, anyway) photo</a> of my third great <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/03/sunday-obituary-claus-schlichtmann-1831.html">Claus Schlichtmann</a> and Anna Sophia von der Lieth. Claus and Anna Sophia were early pioneers of my hometown, Tracy, California, but I didn't know very much about them until I stopped in for a visit at the Tracy Genealogical Society office about six weeks ago. Among the photos and records that documented the lives of my Schlichtmann and Bruhns families in Tracy, I found a hand-written account of how Claus and Sophia came from Germany to make a life for them and their children in California. The story was written by one of Claus and Sophia's granddaughters, and she notes that her information came from interviewing "a lot of people who might know or remember" and "it may not be totally correct." In any case, it's a compelling story, and it has motivated me to continue my research into the Schlichtmann family in Holstein, Germany.<br /><br />Here are images of the hand-written story, and I've transcribed the text below.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Te9h_9mRAJA/UdoWfTPFZfI/AAAAAAAAVQU/XWmj0zroHI4/s1600/Schlichtmann+story.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Te9h_9mRAJA/UdoWfTPFZfI/AAAAAAAAVQU/XWmj0zroHI4/s640/Schlichtmann+story.jpg" width="505" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Gu6M-AVmQk/UdoWfdXKQkI/AAAAAAAAVQQ/NJz2bYmraHA/s1600/Schlichtmann+story+p2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Gu6M-AVmQk/UdoWfdXKQkI/AAAAAAAAVQQ/NJz2bYmraHA/s640/Schlichtmann+story+p2.jpg" width="508" /></a></div>&nbsp;Here's the story of Claus and Anna Sophia Schlichtmann, as written by their granddaughter:<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="background-color: white;">My great grandmother, Maria Katt, was born Maria von Holte in <a href="http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/254472/Hannover">Hanover, Germany</a>. She married Christopher Schlichtmann and had 2 sons, Christopher and Claus. Her husband died leaving her with 2 young boys. She married Dietrich Katt. He was a good step father, the boys liked him. The boys married sisters named von der Lieth and moved their families to the States, eventually to California. In those days, all young men went into the army at 18. Claus, my grandfather, had been in 12 years, 4 each in infantry, cavalry and artillery. He deserted, went through Holland pushing a wheel barrow with his belongings on it. He went to the port of embarkation, signed on as a crew member and worked his passage out. He went to Pennsylvania, took out first citizenship papers, then sent for his wife and 2 little girls, Annie and Christina. They lived in Pennsylvania long enough to add Sophia and Claus to the family, then came to California by boat. They sailed down the Atlantic Coast across the Gulf of Mexico then across Panama by boat and mule train, boarded ship again on the Pacific Coast and sailed to San Francisco. Grandmother was seasick and couldn't take care of her baby. There was a young woman on board who took care of him. Later in San Francisco she married and had a daughter who grew up to marry that boy. Willie and &nbsp;August were added to the family in San Francisco. It turned out to be too damp and cold there for Grandfather, so they moved to a piece of homestead land west of Tracy. All a man needed to homestead land in those days was 2 horses and a wagon load of lumber -- enough for one room. When they arrived at their chosen piece of land a neighbor who already had a ranch wanted that piece, too, so he told them they were on the wrong piece and directed... <i>(writing is illegible here)</i>. While he went for his load of lumber, they were told that the first location was right, so Grandmother and the children carried the lumber back. It was not dry country then. There was good vegetation and plenty of game including deer and antelope. The only money they had at first was what Grandmother earned washing for the section men. She walked to Midway, about 3 miles, and carried the laundry on her back, dipped water from their spring and washed it by hand, then carried it back to Midway -- for 50¢ a week. It's my guess that she got more for 50¢ than we get for a dollar now. The older girls went to work in families, often as mothers helpers for their keep. From this small beginning they became well off as worth was measured in those days. They moved to a better farm where they built a comfortable house with running water, a rarity in those days. Grandfather built a water tank on a slope above the house from rocks he gathered himself, probably on his own land. It was smooth inside like porcelain. May still be in use.</span></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">After Dietrich Katt died Great Grandmother followed her boys to California. It was she who brought the story about our connection with the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/House_of_hanover">House of Hanover</a>. We had a romantic ancestor who eloped with an army officer and was dropped from the family. Old country folks told us we had good blood, came from good stock which seemed to be worth something to them but not to young folks raised in California. Great Grandmother lived to be 88. She was a big woman, had red hair. She is buried in the <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2013/06/tombstone-tuesday-claus-schlichtmann.html">Tracy cemetery </a>along with her son and his wife and 2 of their children in the family plot.&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">In gathering this information we questioned a lot of people who might know or remember. It may not be totally correct.&nbsp;</blockquote><i>(Note: The writer's great grandmother, Anna Maria von Holte Schlichtmann Katt, actually lived to 98, and not 88, per the inscription on her gravestone.)</i><br /><br />So, I think that the granddaughter who wrote this may have been <a href="http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&amp;GSln=kniveton&amp;GSfn=annette&amp;GSbyrel=all&amp;GSdyrel=all&amp;GSob=n&amp;GRid=9522227&amp;df=all&amp;">Annette Genzen Kniveton</a>, who was the daughter of Claus and Anna Sophia's daughter, <a href="http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&amp;GSln=genzen&amp;GSfn=anna&amp;GSbyrel=all&amp;GSdyrel=all&amp;GSob=n&amp;GRid=94620009&amp;df=all&amp;">Anna Maria Schlichtmann Genzen</a>. I'm not completely sure if this is the case, and Annette passed away in 1990. In any case, this little bit of history now has me excited to delve further into our family story before Claus came to the States. I want to know more about Claus' father who died so young, and I'm dying to find out about our alleged connection to the House of Hanover (royalty!).<br /><br />Meanwhile, here's how I'm descended through this line:<br /><br /><b>4th great grandparents:</b><br />Christopher Schlichtmann (??-1838)<br />Anna Maria von Holte (1802-1901)<br /><br /><i>Children:</i><br />Christopher Schlichtmann<br /><i>Claus Schlichtmann (1831-1899)</i><br /><br /><b>3rd great grandparents:</b><br />Claus Schlichtmann (1831-1899)<br />Anna Sophia von der Lieth (1830-1901)<br /><br /><i>Children</i>:<br />Boy Schlichtmann (1857-??)<br />Girl Schlichtmann (1858-??)<br />Anna Maria Schlichtmann (1860-1896)<br /><i>Christina Marguerita Schlichtmann (1862-1952)</i><br />Johanna Sophia Schlichtmann (1864-1952)<br />Claus Schlichtmann (1866-1943)<br />William Frederick Schlichtmann (1868-1910)<br />August Schlichtmann (1872-1931)<br /><br /><b>2nd great grandparents:</b><br />Johann Bruhns (1848-1934)<br />Christina Marguerita Schlichtmann (1862-1952)<br /><br /><i>Children:</i><br />Matilda M. Bruhns (1883-1932)<br />Christina Anna Bruhns (1885-1965)<br /><i>Johanna Bruhns (1886-1965)</i><br />Bertha Bruhns (1888-1949)<br />John Bruhns (1890-1976)<br /><br /><b>Great grandparents:</b><br />Lars Hansen Madsen (1893-1971)<br />Johanna Bruhns (1886-1965)<br /><br /><i>Children</i>:<br />Lloyd Harold Madsen (1918-2012)<br /><i>Donna Marie Madsen (1919-1966)</i><br />Rae Harriett Madsen (1921-2010)<br /><br /><b>Grandparents</b>:<br />John Bartram (1911-1987)<br />Donna Marie Madsen (1919-1966)<br /><br /><i>Children</i>:<br />Clinton James Bartram (1938-2001)<br />Brenda Rae Bartram (living)<br /><i>Rebecca Elizabeth Bartram (living)</i><br />Clay John Bartram (living)<br /><br /><b>Parents</b>:<br />William Lee Brittain (1942-2003)<br />Rebecca Elizabeth Bartram (living)<br /><br /><i>Children</i>:<br />Wendy Lee Brittain (that's me!)<br />Cynthia Lynn Brittain (living)<br /><ul class="sub" style="background-color: white; border-bottom-color: rgb(179, 173, 163); border-bottom-left-radius: 5px; border-bottom-right-radius: 5px; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(179, 173, 163); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(179, 173, 163); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-left-radius: 0px; border-top-right-radius: 0px; clear: left; color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.333333969116211px; line-height: 17.77777862548828px; list-style: none; margin: 0px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px;"><br /></ul>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-83688860349273677492013-07-07T14:54:00.000-07:002013-07-07T14:54:09.588-07:00Sentimental Sunday: Grandpa John Bartram at the County FairToday is the last day of the annual <a href="http://www.alamedacountyfair.com/2013fair/index.php">Alameda County Fair</a> in Pleasanton, California. Going to the fair has always been a family tradition for us. My sister and I used to bring our <a href="http://www.4-h.org/">4-H lambs</a> to show and sell at the San Joaquin County Fair, and we loved going to the Alameda County Fair with our cousins when we were kids. My <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/04/happy-100th-birthday-to-grandpa-john.html">Grandpa John Bartram</a> also enjoyed going to the fair each year, but not for the rides and games. He liked to bet on the ponies! I remember going to the fair with him as a kid, and he'd give us a bit of money for games and cotton candy while he'd head up to the horse racing stands. What I didn't realize is that he started that particular tradition with my mom when she was a kid!<br /><br />Here's a photo of Grandpa John with our family friend, Bud. As Mom tells the story, Grandpa and Bud decided it was a good day to go to the races, and my mom and her cousin, Stan, also wanted to go for the rides and games. Grandpa gave them each a wad of money and sent them on their way. Then, he and Bud headed up to the races enjoy a few (or more) beers and try their luck with the horses. When they were done (we don't have any recollection of how much money they won or lost that day), they headed back down to the midway and decided to document the occasion with a photo booth picture:<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_buTK7YGMn4/UdngX_32fKI/AAAAAAAAVP0/7ZbiGO1z_VA/s1600/scan0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_buTK7YGMn4/UdngX_32fKI/AAAAAAAAVP0/7ZbiGO1z_VA/s400/scan0001.jpg" width="310" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bud (left) and Grandpa John&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table>Even if they didn't win big that day, it looks like they had a lot of fun at the fair!!<br /><br />My sister, Cindy, happened to be visiting us during the fair this year, so she, our cousin, Leslie, and I went to the Alameda County Fair with Cindy's boys and Leslie's husband and daughter. The young kids had a great time, and the three of us "old" kids couldn't resist squeezing into a photo booth. It was just like old times!<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HXcd0a-U0fs/UdnhqVpp2oI/AAAAAAAAVQA/uFPYJyQ5v4A/s1600/LesWenCin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HXcd0a-U0fs/UdnhqVpp2oI/AAAAAAAAVQA/uFPYJyQ5v4A/s640/LesWenCin.jpg" width="166" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cousin Leslie and sisters, Cindy and Wendy, clowning around at the fair!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-90571752650497433782013-06-20T08:20:00.000-07:002013-06-20T08:20:54.468-07:00Treasure Chest Thursday: Great Grandma Jessie's 1915 Common School Diploma<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TUH6W99EfFY/UcJRtvyGMFI/AAAAAAAARSI/uu8gL2sYAZI/s1600/0cdcb423-f8ff-49f7-8348-9f51ad290bc8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TUH6W99EfFY/UcJRtvyGMFI/AAAAAAAARSI/uu8gL2sYAZI/s200/0cdcb423-f8ff-49f7-8348-9f51ad290bc8.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jessie Luetta Halstead</td></tr></tbody></table>A few weeks ago, one of my dad's first cousins, Ann, contacted me to see if my sister and I would like a couple of things that had belonged to our paternal great grandmother,<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/sunday-obituary-jessie-luetta-halstead.html"> Jessie Luetta Halstead Brittain.</a> What a nice surprise! I thought that Cindy might like to have Grandma's silverware set, and I'm happy that she'll get to think of Great Grandma Brittain whenever she uses it.<br /><br />I was most excited, however, that Ann had Great Grandma Brittain's Common School Diploma. I eagerly took Ann up on her offer to send it to me, and this is what showed up at my office a few days ago:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VC1sHRsCu-8/UcJMuKg4JUI/AAAAAAAARRk/kD_V_-6eksg/s1600/IMG_2315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VC1sHRsCu-8/UcJMuKg4JUI/AAAAAAAARRk/kD_V_-6eksg/s400/IMG_2315.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WsE2bEv5EeU/UcJMv-0vA1I/AAAAAAAARR8/U1hY1cGmVFk/s1600/IMG_2323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WsE2bEv5EeU/UcJMv-0vA1I/AAAAAAAARR8/U1hY1cGmVFk/s400/IMG_2323.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The document reads:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">COMMON SCHOOL&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">DIPLOMA</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">THIS CERTIFIES THAT</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Jessie Halstead</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">has completed the regular course of study prescribed by the State</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Board of Education of the State of Oklahoma and has passed</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">a satisfactory examination in all subjects of the Common School</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Course and is, therefore, entitled to this Diploma which admits</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the holder to any High School, State Normal School, the&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A&amp;M college and all secondary colleges in</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">the State of Oklahoma.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Given at Oklahoma City this 5th day of May 1915</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S2imMRUm9wY/UcJMuPlv-7I/AAAAAAAARRg/SsbE6CjgVNs/s1600/IMG_2317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S2imMRUm9wY/UcJMuPlv-7I/AAAAAAAARRg/SsbE6CjgVNs/s400/IMG_2317.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Brittain's test scores (pardon my obtrusive camera work...)</td></tr></tbody></table>As you can see, someone had the diploma framed in double-sided glass, which was nice because Grandma Brittain's test results were recorded on the back of the document. I had a chuckle at her 70 score in arithmetic. My own former math teachers would agree that the apple did not fall far from this branch of the family!<br /><br />Grandma Jessie was 16 years old when she passed her exams and received her diploma. I'm guessing that she and her family were very proud, especially since a lot of rural kids, especially girls, didn't complete their education back in those days. I don't know if she went on to high school, but she didn't marry my Great Grandfather, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/military-monday-andrew-lee-brittain-in.html">Andrew Lee Brittain</a>, until after another four years, so it's entirely possible that she did continue her studies.<br /><br />Grandma's diploma now hangs in my bedroom. I'm quite proud of her for her scholarly achievement -- mediocre math grade, and all!<br /><br />Thanks again to Cousin Ann for sharing this treasure with me!<br /><br />Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-63048457981064632162013-06-19T08:11:00.000-07:002013-06-19T08:11:08.367-07:00Not So Wordless Wednesday: GGG Grandparents, Claus Schlichtmann and Anna Sophia von der Lieth When I was home in Tracy, California, a few weeks ago, I stopped by the <a href="http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~catags/">Tracy Area Genealogical Society (TAGS)</a> to do a little research on my <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/07/sunday-obituary-john-bruhns.html">Bruhns</a> and <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/03/sunday-obituary-claus-schlichtmann-1831.html">Schlichtmann</a> family. I had known that my Germans came to California in the 1860s and 1870s, and were successful farmers in the Tracy area, but I really didn't know an awful lot more about them prior to their arrival in the States. I was surprised to find that the TAGS group had a LOT of information about my Tracy pioneers, including some fantastic photos.<br /><div><br /></div><div>My favorite picture that I unearthed that day is this one. It's of my GGG grandparents, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2013/06/tombstone-tuesday-claus-schlichtmann.html">Claus Schlichtmann (1831-1899</a>) and Anna Sophia von der Lieth (1830-1901).&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UeNXH-tRqEY/UcD7Nw59FkI/AAAAAAAARDI/niBwRbP2l3o/s1600/Claus+and+Anna+Schlichtmann+-+3x+G+grandparents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UeNXH-tRqEY/UcD7Nw59FkI/AAAAAAAARDI/niBwRbP2l3o/s400/Claus+and+Anna+Schlichtmann+-+3x+G+grandparents.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I had never seen a photo of either of them before, and it somehow really touched me to look upon the faces of these brave maternal ancestors who risked a lot to bring their family to a whole new world of opportunities. In addition to the photos I found at the TAGS office, there are more documents that tell the story of how the Schlichtmanns came to the US, and to Tracy, California. There's even a bit of romantic mystery that needs some more research (perhaps, we're related to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/House_of_Hanover">German royalty</a>!). More to come on all of that in the weeks ahead.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile, please say hello to Claus and Anna!</div>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-7074617156155974862013-06-18T08:10:00.000-07:002013-06-18T08:10:41.086-07:00Tombstone Tuesday: Claus Schlichtmann (1834-1899) and familyLast month, on my way to visit my mom for our annual birthday celebration (cake, steak and gambling!), I stopped by my old hometown of Tracy, California, to check out the cemetery where some of my pioneer ancestors were buried. I mostly grew up in Tracy (we moved there from over the hill in Livermore when I was almost eight, in 1973, and my mom finally moved away after Dad passed away in 2003). Lately, I've been trying to dig a little further into my Tracy roots, and it occurred to me that I hadn't yet even bothered to visit my ancestors who "lived" so close to me. Shame on me!<br /><br />So, here is is the tombstone and burial plot of my <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/03/sunday-obituary-claus-schlichtmann-1831.html">Great Great Great Grandfather, Claus Schlichtmann. </a>His name and information are inscribed on the front of the monument and his mother, Anna Maria (von Holte-Schlichtmann) Katt, and daughter, Anna Maria (Schlichtmann) Genzer, are both memorialized on the side and back of the monument.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wtXcmCXyzxk/Ub-igUpkIBI/AAAAAAAARAY/z3l-JqDl8yo/s1600/Photo+2013-05-24+09.13.45+PM(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wtXcmCXyzxk/Ub-igUpkIBI/AAAAAAAARAY/z3l-JqDl8yo/s640/Photo+2013-05-24+09.13.45+PM(2).jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lgZGor8GMKc/Ub-igeAHAbI/AAAAAAAARAU/z6hSoZC38Lk/s1600/Photo+2013-05-24+09.13.45+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lgZGor8GMKc/Ub-igeAHAbI/AAAAAAAARAU/z6hSoZC38Lk/s640/Photo+2013-05-24+09.13.45+PM.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Claus Schlichtmann, Born Sept. 4, 1831. Died July 5, 1899. A native of Germany</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Claus Schlichtmann was my 3rd great grandfather on my mom's side. He was born in 1831 in Hanover, Germany, and immigrated to the US in 1862. Not long afterward he sent for his family, including his wife, Anna, and my great great grandmother,&nbsp;</span><a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/02/wedding-wednesday-john-bruhns-christina.html" style="line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">Christina Schlichtmann Bruhns</a><span style="line-height: 18px;">, who was just a baby when they made their voyage. They lived in Pennsylvania for a time, and then finally they made their way to California, living for a short time in San Francisco before they settled in Tracy.&nbsp;</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Claus died in San Francisco on July 5, 1899, at the age of 68, and was buried at the Tracy Public Cemetery in Tracy, California. The plot is in the oldest section of the cemetery, right at the corner of Schulte Road and McArthur Boulevard. Growing up, we drove by there at least a few times a week on our way into town.&nbsp;</span></span></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WoR66ANfxwc/Ub-igPRg5fI/AAAAAAAARAQ/G-rIl89LKB4/s1600/Photo+2013-05-24+09.13.47+PM(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WoR66ANfxwc/Ub-igPRg5fI/AAAAAAAARAQ/G-rIl89LKB4/s640/Photo+2013-05-24+09.13.47+PM(2).jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Claus' daughter, Anna Maria Genzen, Born Sept 14, 1860. Died Feb 3, 1896. A native of Germany &nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7FJV0Ov11pc/Ub-ikO2onuI/AAAAAAAARAo/wkMFmxZj0P8/s1600/Photo+2013-05-24+09.13.47+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7FJV0Ov11pc/Ub-ikO2onuI/AAAAAAAARAo/wkMFmxZj0P8/s640/Photo+2013-05-24+09.13.47+PM.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Claus' mother, Anna Maria von Holte (Schlichtmann) Katt, Born Nov 12, 1802. <br />Died Jan 17, 1901. A native of Germany.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cSK-S3USklM/Ub-pQjnfP6I/AAAAAAAARA4/mhEd7PA3QJM/s1600/Photo+2013-05-24+09.13.45+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cSK-S3USklM/Ub-pQjnfP6I/AAAAAAAARA4/mhEd7PA3QJM/s400/Photo+2013-05-24+09.13.45+PM.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mystery stone, but I think it belongs to Claus' wife, Anna Sophia, or one of his other daughters.</td></tr></tbody></table>Claus' wife (and my GGG grandmother), Anna Sophia von der Leith, is not memorialized on the stone. &nbsp;However, I believe she is buried with her family in the plot. It's possible that this broken stone that was leaning against the base of the memorial stone belongs to her or another family member. Next time I'm in Tracy, I'm going to visit the cemetery office to see if I can get some records that might help me determine exactly where Anna Sophia is resting.<br /><br />I enjoyed my first "tourist" visit (meaning, not there for a funeral) to the <a href="http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=cr&amp;CRid=8407">Tracy Public Cemetery</a>, and I'm having fun getting to know my German ancestors. In fact, on my way back home to Oakland that week, I stopped in at the <a href="http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~catags/">Tracy Area Genealogical Society</a> office and did a little more research into my Schlichtmann and Bruhns families. What a treasure trove! More to come on that soon.Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-29343204392859050382013-06-16T09:13:00.001-07:002013-06-16T09:14:04.114-07:00Sentimental Sunday: Reblogged -- A Tribute to DadIn honor of Father's Day this year, I'm reposting a tribute to my dad, William Lee Brittain, that I posted a couple of years ago. The sentiments still ring true, and I sure do wish Dad was here for me to wish him a Happy Father's Day and give him a big hug in person.<br /><br />###<br /><div class="post-header" style="line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-6167054316104117216" style="line-height: 1.4; width: 530px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: #666666; float: left; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-right: 1em; padding: 4px; position: relative;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dFu49p_K7IY/TfQb5rcyUvI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Q3JxnpxUVm8/s1600/IMG_0741.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; clear: left; color: #4d469c; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dFu49p_K7IY/TfQb5rcyUvI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Q3JxnpxUVm8/s200/IMG_0741.jpg" style="border: none; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="196" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10px; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;">Dad, Cindy and me</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Happy Fathers Day to all the dads out there. This is a bittersweet day for me since my own dad passed away on January 4, 2003, from congestive heart disease and a heart transplant that went badly. I was a "daddy's girl" and I still find it hard to talk -- or write -- about him without getting very emotional. Instead, I'm going to share with you some photos of him, as well as the tribute I read at his memorial service.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">&nbsp;</span><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br /><blockquote style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Tribute to My Dad (read at his memorial service on January 11, 2003)</b><br /><br />When Cindy and I were growing up, we often heard friends tell us how cool our parents were and how lucky we were to have such great relationships with them.&nbsp; We always knew that was the case and, even during those turbulent teen years, we valued and respected our Mom and Dad -- as both parents and friends.<br /><br />Today, I’d like to share some memories that Cindy and I have shared, separately as well as together, with Dad as well as Mom.</span></blockquote><span style="background-color: white;"><br style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7v873oWV7Iw/TfQb4VLYc1I/AAAAAAAAAZ0/10Tuor76sVg/s1600/SCAN0256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; color: #4d469c; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="201" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7v873oWV7Iw/TfQb4VLYc1I/AAAAAAAAAZ0/10Tuor76sVg/s320/SCAN0256.jpg" style="border: none; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Mom, Dad and me</span></td></tr></tbody></table><blockquote style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="background-color: white;">WENDY’S MEMORIES<br /><br />* The first time I remember seeing Dad cry was when I moved away from home to go to college in San Diego.&nbsp; My roommate came to pick me up, and I was so excited as we started to drive off to our new lives as young adults in a new city.&nbsp; Then, I turned around for one more wave goodbye to my family and saw that my Dad was crying.&nbsp; Of course, I knew that he would miss me, but I was so touched by his show of emotion.&nbsp; Needless to say, I bawled for a good thirty miles or so down the road<br /><br />* Even though my family and I missed each other while I was living away from home, we never went too long without visits.&nbsp; I always loved it when my parents came to visit me in college -- it was so much fun to show them the sites and take them to my favorite bars in San Diego and, later, in San Luis Obispo.&nbsp; Some of my favorite times where when they would bring my sister, family friends or aunts and uncles.&nbsp; A particularly memorable time was when they and Mike and Lois Brenkwitz visited me in San Diego one July 4th weekend.&nbsp; I took them on a rather lively tour of Tijuana that will remain in our memories for years to come.&nbsp; In more recent years, I’ve relished visits from Mom and Dad to my home in San Francisco.&nbsp; Dad was NOT a city person, but he was always willing to hand over the car keys and let me be his tour guide<br /><br />* Dad and I had many things in common.&nbsp; We tended to drive Mom and Cindy crazy with our deep -- and, at times, incessant -- discussions/debates on politics and social issues.&nbsp; It’s from my Dad that I inherited my addiction to news and political commentary -- we didn’t always agree on issues or candidates, but we found that we generally were coming from the same place.&nbsp; We also loved discussing technology and sharing new “toys” with each other -- another topic that drove Mom and Cindy crazy.&nbsp; Finally, Dad and I shared a passion for music.&nbsp; He taught me to appreciate western swing and the older country music of Willie Nelson, Patsy Cline, Bob Wills, Hank Thompson, Marty Robbins and many other artists.&nbsp; He and Mom also let me tag along with them and the McCrearys to jazz festivals.&nbsp; One of my last happy memories with Dad was when he was in the hospital at Stanford and one of the hospital musicians came into to his room to play guitar and sing a few songs.&nbsp; Dad had been very depressed, but when Jeff started playing “San Antonio Rose,” and I sang along with him, Dad’s eyes lit up -- he was so uplifted that he joined in the singing as well.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></blockquote><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cSBL-bSenxE/TfQb4_B070I/AAAAAAAAAZ4/Ty1Ie4Iu4f0/s1600/SCAN0234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; color: #4d469c; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="315" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cSBL-bSenxE/TfQb4_B070I/AAAAAAAAAZ4/Ty1Ie4Iu4f0/s320/SCAN0234.jpg" style="border: none; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Dad and Cindy</span></td></tr></tbody></table><blockquote style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="background-color: white;">CINDY’S MEMORIES<br /><br />*&nbsp; Cindy felt especially lucky and privileged to have her Daddy walk her down the aisle on her wedding day.&nbsp; Most of you know that Dad was not a man of many words, but the toast that gave that night was so moving because it came directly from his heart -- he was so proud of his little girl.&nbsp; It was also icing on the cake knowing that Luis, her new husband, and Dad already were developing a great relationship.&nbsp; After spending so much time in a family dominated by women, we think it made Dad very happy to be finally getting a son<br /><br />*&nbsp; The morning after Evan was born, everyone showed up at the hospital for a visit.&nbsp; Liam got up on the bed with Cindy to meet his baby brother.&nbsp; When Dad walked into the room and saw his daughter and two grandsons together for the first time, a tear came to his eyes.&nbsp; This moment was especially touching for Cindy and is something she’ll hold dear to her.<br /><br />*&nbsp; Dad was such a proud grandpa, and he loved Liam and Evan so much.&nbsp; I know that it bothered him that he didn’t have the energy to run after the boys or get down on the floor to play with him the way he would have liked to, but to see his eyes light up whenever the boys came to visit him and Mom was something to behold.&nbsp; Liam and Evan loved their Papa Cow, too, and they both talk about him often and miss him very much.</span></blockquote><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hJmQ3oUmTmM/TfQb4OJdJpI/AAAAAAAAAZw/U0NUVBwh9UU/s1600/SCAN0277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; color: #4d469c; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hJmQ3oUmTmM/TfQb4OJdJpI/AAAAAAAAAZw/U0NUVBwh9UU/s320/SCAN0277.jpg" style="border: none; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="227" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Cindy, Mom, Pepper, Dad and me<br />at our house on Bird Road</span></td></tr></tbody></table><blockquote style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="background-color: white;">&nbsp;MEMORIES TOGETHER<br /><br />* While Cindy and I had many separate memories of Dad, we also shared wonderful times with him together.&nbsp; Some of our earliest memories of Dad were when he’d take us horse shoeing with him around Livermore, Pleasanton and Dublin.&nbsp; He would let us hand him whatever tools he needed to do his job, or just let us loose to play with the kids or dogs who lived at the various ranches.&nbsp; We’ll never forget the smell of horses and sweat that lingered in his ‘67 Ford pickup.&nbsp; It’s a scent that -- even today -- both of us find sweet.<br /><br />* While we were growing up, our family didn’t take trips to Europe, or even across the country.&nbsp; Instead, most of our family vacations happened up in the Sierra Nevada mountains, usually camping with a motley group of family and/or close friends.&nbsp; I think that one year, we camped in Yosemite at least four or five times -- we experienced that magnificent place in every season.&nbsp; Dad loved the mountains more than anywhere else in the world, and he instilled that same love in Cindy and me.&nbsp; When Cindy and I were old enough to have summer jobs, our parents started occasionally going up to the mountains without us -- while we were excited that they trusted us enough to leave us at home alone, I think that we secretly were a bit envious and sad that they were enjoying our favorite vacation stomping grounds without us!<br /><br />* As we got older, we enjoyed many road trips with Mom and Dad -- big and small, well-planned as well as spontaneous -- but always memorable.&nbsp; Their spur-of-the-moment trip to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon with Cindy and Luis always inspires laughter -- just mention the word “lizard” or ask about the “two dead coyotes driving down the road” and see what kind of reaction you’ll get.&nbsp; It was during my trips to the Southwest with Mom and Dad that I developed an appreciation for Native American culture as well as the history of West.&nbsp; I was always so honored to receive the occasional phone call from Mom and Dad, saying that they were thinking about taking a weekend road trip to Shasta or Eureka or wherever, and would I like to come along.&nbsp; As you can see from the picture board and photo album we‘ve brought along today, these trips were treasured -- not just for the travel -- but for the special times we got to enjoy with both our parents.<br /><br />Finally, one of my all-time favorite memories of both Mom and Dad together was witnessing a very fleeting, yet loving, moment between them just a few years ago.&nbsp; I was home one weekend, watching TV in the living room.&nbsp; I looked up to see Mom and Dad standing in the dining room with their arms around each other sharing a kiss and an “I love you”.&nbsp; I thought, how cool is it that, after all these years, my parents are still in love with each other.&nbsp; Their relationship was the solid foundation for our incredibly close-knit and loving family.<br /><br />It’s so sad to think that we won’t have the chance to create more memories with Dad, but we’re so happy to have had all the happy times with him that we did.&nbsp; We also know that Dad created memories with just about all of you, and we know that you are treasuring them in your own ways.&nbsp; We miss Dad so much, and I know that he’s keeping an eye on us and will continue to share in our future memories in his own special way.</span></blockquote><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Again, Happy Fathers Day to everyone out there. While I'm missing my Daddy, I cherish all our memories together, and I hope you're all able to enjoy yours, as well.&nbsp;&nbsp;</span></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lX0uljJYjQ8/TfQb5bYpIkI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/ZAStBEJiL5I/s1600/SCAN0060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; color: #4d469c; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lX0uljJYjQ8/TfQb5bYpIkI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/ZAStBEJiL5I/s320/SCAN0060.jpg" style="border: none; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 10px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Dad, Mom and me on one of our Southwest vacations</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="background-color: #627349; clear: both; color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></div><div id="lws_0" style="background-color: #627349; color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><div class="linkwithin_outer" style="border: 0px; clear: both; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><div class="linkwithin_inner" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; width: 477px;"></div></div></div></div>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-84857958658107396982013-06-12T00:30:00.000-07:002013-06-12T08:37:00.124-07:00Not So Wordless Wednesday: Madsen Family in 1912Once again, I've been contacted by a cousin wanting to share family pictures and stories. I'm always happy when my new-found cousins are excited for me to post their treasures here on my blog because I know how much it means for all of us to have these rare glimpses into our families' pasts. <br /><br />So, thanks to my cousin, Jim Cole, for this gem! This handsome family is Jim's grandparents, Han Terkelsen Madsen and Maren Christiansen Caspersen, their six children, AND Hans' youngest brother, Lars Hansen Madsen. Yep, that handsome young Danish chap standing in the back with his hand on his hip was my Great Grandpa Louie!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--oCAbasM41U/UbgJk4KSweI/AAAAAAAAQ_k/4O070DBD19o/s1600/7F4F0F98-B706-48B2-AC50-230811D8649F.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="333" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--oCAbasM41U/UbgJk4KSweI/AAAAAAAAQ_k/4O070DBD19o/s400/7F4F0F98-B706-48B2-AC50-230811D8649F.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Hans came to California from Aero, Denmark, in 1891. Born in 1870, he was the oldest of ten children and 23 years older than his little brother, Lars, who followed him to Livermore, California, in 1908. <br /><br />Here are the Madsen family members in this photo, which I think was taken in about 1912, likely in Livermore: <br /><br />Front (l-r): Louis C. Madsen (1906-2000), William Hans Madsen (1910-1973), Hans Terkelsen Madsen (1870-1956), Maren Christiansen Caspersen (1870-1972), Casper Marion Madsen (1907-1986).<br /><br />Rear (l-r): Katie M. Madsen (1896-1976), May Christine Madsen (1904-1981), Julia C. Madsen (1899-?), Lars Hansen Madsen (1893-1971). It's entirely possible that I have May and Julia mixed up here, but based on birth dates, I think this is correct.<br /><br />Cousin Jim Cole is the son of May Christine Madsen, and he's been sharing wonderful stories about his memories of my Grandpa Louie, whom they all called either 'Little Louie' or 'Uncle Louie,' and my Great Grandma Hannah. Jim is visiting our families' homeland in Aero, Denmark, later this summer, and I can't wait to hear more stories when he returns! Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-78829894051105016442013-06-05T08:10:00.000-07:002013-06-19T22:11:32.754-07:00Not So Wordless Wednesday: Four Generations of HuntsHere's a photo I found in my Grandma Edith's collection awhile ago. It's of four generations of her Hunt family, and I believe it was taken sometime around 1953.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_b0XRwZuXQQ/Ua6DKA-_AKI/AAAAAAAAQC4/XMqEu3SOZDA/s1600/Hunt+4+gens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_b0XRwZuXQQ/Ua6DKA-_AKI/AAAAAAAAQC4/XMqEu3SOZDA/s400/Hunt+4+gens.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>On the left is my great great grandmother, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/05/not-so-wordless-wednesday-francis.html">Georgia Francis Ann Purser</a>. She was born October 7, 1871, in Searcy, White County, Arkansas, and died July 14, 1956, in Henderson County, Texas. She was married to <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/08/not-so-wordless-wednesday-william.html">William Calhoun Hunt</a>.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Next to Georgia is her oldest child, and my great grandfather, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/06/sunday-obituary-james-william-hunt-1891.html">James William "Earl" Hunt</a>. James was born January 1, 1891, in Lee County, Texas, and died April 7, 1961, in Muskogee, Oklahoma. He was married to <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/08/sentimental-sunday-great-grandma-ethel.html">Ethel Modena Martindale</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next to Earl is his youngest child, and my <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2013/05/wednesdays-child-edith-vivian-hunt.html">Grandma Edith's</a> younger brother, George Lee Hunt. Uncle George was born January 11, 1927, in Oklahoma, and died November 1987 in Tulsa, Tulsa County, Oklahoma.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Standing in front are George's two sons. I think they are Lester Wayne Hunt and James Lee Hunt, but I'm not entirely sure (if any Hunt cousins are reading this and know for sure, please feel free to let me know!).&nbsp;</div>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-39385442525442140792013-06-04T08:32:00.000-07:002013-06-04T09:26:29.117-07:00Tombstone Tuesday: F.H. Brittian<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bus879D7Fa4/Tb47f5OyRfI/AAAAAAAAAT4/kGf527KcLZs/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-05-01+at+10.03.26+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bus879D7Fa4/Tb47f5OyRfI/AAAAAAAAAT4/kGf527KcLZs/s200/Screen+shot+2011-05-01+at+10.03.26+PM.png" width="154" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frederick Harmon Brittain<br />(not Brittian...)</td></tr></tbody></table>Yes, I realize that I spelled my own last name incorrectly in the title of this post. There's a good reason for that. Let me explain...<br /><br />A couple of years ago, I was busy working on my<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/im-in-dar.html"> Daughters of the American Revolution application</a>, and was running into a couple of brick walls in my attempt to prove my direct lineage back to my Revolutionary War patriot, Nathaniel Brittain.<br /><br />One of the issues I had was in documenting the death of my great great grandfather, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/wedding-wednesday-frederick-harmon.html">Frederick Harmon Brittain</a> (1859-1921). I knew that he had died in 1921, in Rupert, Van Buren County, Arkansas, but I just couldn't find the proof. Finally, I sent a request to the Random Acts of Genealogical Kindness website, to ask if anyone had access to cemetery records in that area (the original RAOGK site is now defunct, but a <a href="http://raogk.wikia.com/wiki/Random_Acts_of_Genealogical_Kindness_Wiki">wiki workaround was created last year</a>). Thankfully, a fellow genealogist had a cemetery record book that listed "F.H. Brittian" as being buried in the Pleasant Grove Cemetery in Van Buren County, Arkansas, and she was kind enough to scan the page and send it to me.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vJaUBQX41V8/Ua0qvfgEmPI/AAAAAAAAQCg/Q1TuGzmj0fM/s1600/FH+Brittain+cemetery+record.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vJaUBQX41V8/Ua0qvfgEmPI/AAAAAAAAQCg/Q1TuGzmj0fM/s640/FH+Brittain+cemetery+record.jpg" width="492" /></a></div>As you can see, Grandpa Brittain's last name is spelled incorrectly. This is actually one of the more typical misspellings of our name that I see on a regular basis (and it never fails to annoy me just a little bit). Nevertheless, it was a big help in proving my relationship to Nathaniel Brittain, and I figured it was just an error in the record keeping until a couple of days ago.<br /><br />So, back when I had originally posted my request at the RAOGK site, I also posted a request for a photo of the grave on the <a href="http://www.findagrave.com/">Find A Grave website</a>. I had completely forgotten about that query until I received an email saying that someone had fulfilled my photo request for me! Thanks to <a href="http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=mr&amp;GSsr=81&amp;GSvpid=47033728&amp;GRid=62284801&amp;MRid=47033728&amp;">Dan McGuire</a>, I now have a photo of Frederick Harmon Brittain's grave stone and, sure enough, the name is misspelled as "Brittian." Sigh...<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cCRkDKmV89U/Ua0qvdUPf7I/AAAAAAAAQCk/FLaoGFYt8wY/s1600/FH+Brittain+grave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cCRkDKmV89U/Ua0qvdUPf7I/AAAAAAAAQCk/FLaoGFYt8wY/s320/FH+Brittain+grave.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Dan McGuire</td></tr></tbody></table>By the way, this is my ancestor who, according to family lore, was <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/05/mystery-monday-why-was-frederick-harmon.html">wrongly put in a US Jail in Muskogee</a>, Oklahoma, in 1900 for horse thievery (the horse's previous owner finally showed up to vouch for him). The poor guy couldn't catch a break, even in death!<br /><br />Thanks so much to Dan McGuire and all of the other kind family historians out there who are willing to share documents and trudge through old cemeteries to take photos.<br /><br />And, this was another lesson for me to remember to check alternate spellings when searching through documentation. It wouldn't have occurred to me to switch that "a" and "i" around, even though people get my name wrong all the time!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-76429743909282390222013-05-12T08:33:00.001-07:002013-05-12T08:33:10.016-07:00Happy Mother's Day!<span style="color: #38761d;">Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there! Here's a post I wrote a couple of years ago in honor of my own wonderful mom, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/05/sentimental-sunday-happy-birthday-mom.html">Becky</a>. I'm so happy I get to celebrate with her this year, and I look forward to seeing her and giving her a big hug a little later today!</span><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D2rWz_aPzyw/TcYp5US1mhI/AAAAAAAAAU4/DgXbdyrp2Ug/s1600/Mom+on+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D2rWz_aPzyw/TcYp5US1mhI/AAAAAAAAAU4/DgXbdyrp2Ug/s200/Mom+on+bike.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Little Becky Bartram<br />What a cutie!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Happy Mother's Day, everyone! Today, I dedicate my blog post to my Mom: Rebecca Elizabeth Bartram (Brittain Santos). Mom was born in 1946, in Livermore, California, to John Bartram and Donna Madsen Bartram. She's the third of four children, including her older brother and sister, Jimmy and Brenda, and her younger brother, Clay.<br /><br />Mom grew up around the Livermore valley, where my Grandpa John worked as a cowboy (for the Harry Rowell Ranch as well as riding rodeo). She met my dad, William Lee Brittain, when she was a teenager, and they married on September 12, 1964. They soon started their family with my younger sister, Cindy, and me. We moved around the Livermore area (with short stints in San Luis Obispo and the Reno, Nevada, area) until we settled outside of Tracy, California, in 1974.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OfMACcqJguE/TcYpzF3jFnI/AAAAAAAAAUw/m6Q46PoS4zc/s1600/Mom+Dad+Wen+baby.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="126" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OfMACcqJguE/TcYpzF3jFnI/AAAAAAAAAUw/m6Q46PoS4zc/s200/Mom+Dad+Wen+baby.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Mom, Dad and me</td></tr></tbody></table>Mom was always very involved in Cindy's and my activities. She worked at our elementary school and was an active leader of our 4-H group. In fact, Mom and Dad took it upon themselves to learn all they could about raising sheep so they could lead our 4-H sheep group. She schlepped us to our other various activities: Cindy's gymnastics practice and my marching band competitions, for example. She also fostered our love of crafts and Halloween: to this day, I refuse to purchase a Halloween costume when my Mom instilled in me the creativity and ingenuity to conjure up my own! I appreciated Dad and Mom helping me through college -- I was the first one in my family to get a university degree, and I can't tell you how much their support meant to me. Whatever we were into, Mom was a staunch supporter and we could always count on her encouragement.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q9DnQzYfGyE/TcYqAwFuTtI/AAAAAAAAAU8/AjuUom5dxbg/s1600/Mom+Cin+Wen+wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q9DnQzYfGyE/TcYqAwFuTtI/AAAAAAAAAU8/AjuUom5dxbg/s320/Mom+Cin+Wen+wedding.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Cindy, Mom and me at Mom and Rodney's wedding</td></tr></tbody></table>I have to say, Cindy and I are very lucky daughters. My mom has always been a great parent, and she has a real knack for knowing when it's appropriate to be the "mom" and when it's ok to be our friend. As we've both grown, our relationship as women has truly blossomed. I've had fun going on vacations with Mom (alone and with Dad) and just hanging out with her. We still reminisce about our mother/daughter trip to New Orleans and pilgrimage to Graceland.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kPty4Svo_Oc/TcYqIEEhJKI/AAAAAAAAAVA/sBhfUojrfI0/s1600/Mom+Boys+wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kPty4Svo_Oc/TcYqIEEhJKI/AAAAAAAAAVA/sBhfUojrfI0/s320/Mom+Boys+wedding.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Grandma I-U and her boys, Liam and Evan</td></tr></tbody></table>Mom has also developed a special relationship with Cindy: they are both mothers now and share that wonderful bond. She's the best grandma (or I-U, as they call her) to her boys, Liam and Evan. When Dad passed away in 2003, we all went through a rough patch together (and still do sometimes), but we knew we could count on each other to be strong for each other, or just to cry on each others' shoulders. I honestly don't know what I would have done without Mom and Cindy during that time.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UM_XNbXXi3U/TcYqPRHXWWI/AAAAAAAAAVE/t_Cpav81zo4/s1600/Mom+Rod+wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UM_XNbXXi3U/TcYqPRHXWWI/AAAAAAAAAVE/t_Cpav81zo4/s320/Mom+Rod+wedding.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Mr. and Mrs. Rodney Santos</td></tr></tbody></table>Mom has now embarked on a new adventure in her life. She met a wonderful man, Rodney, and they got married last year. Cindy and I are so happy that she found love and companionship again, and that we're able to share in their new life together. I'm not able to spend today with Mom (we're celebrating our birthdays together in a couple of weeks, though), but I look forward to calling her first thing to thank her for everything she's done for me, and to tell her I love her.<br /><br />Happy Mother's Day, Mom!<br /><br />Love,<br />-wendy<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iQalYo7uK2A/TcYp32xOomI/AAAAAAAAAU0/p2bTPwL0q5o/s1600/Mom+wedding+shower.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iQalYo7uK2A/TcYp32xOomI/AAAAAAAAAU0/p2bTPwL0q5o/s320/Mom+wedding+shower.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Isn't she beautiful??</td></tr></tbody></table>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-4638792911022592972013-05-08T09:26:00.000-07:002013-05-08T09:26:33.128-07:00Wednesday's Child: Edith Vivian Hunt Some people may think it's a chore to organize files and photos, but I'm having a lot of fun whipping my documents into shape on Google Drive. Part of the joy is getting a fresh look at a bunch of old photos of my family members and ancestors.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Here are a few photos I have of my Grandma, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/04/happy-birthday-grandma-edith.html">Edith Vivian Hunt</a> (Brittain), from when she was a child. I'm so happy that my <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/06/wedding-wednesday-james-ethel-hunts.html">great grandparents</a>, Jim and Ethel Hunt,&nbsp;had a camera and loved to take pictures of their family!</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vIz69vuiZss/TZY2-Q-QBEI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/hatQLDqkjHM/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-04-01+at+1.35.20+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vIz69vuiZss/TZY2-Q-QBEI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/hatQLDqkjHM/s400/Screen+shot+2011-04-01+at+1.35.20+PM.png" width="302" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edith Vivian Hunt, &nbsp;born April 1, 1920, in Slick, Creek County, Oklahoma</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g8Ak6VxjmRQ/UYmg0zfa5hI/AAAAAAAAPuU/9Fvu3j0xs6U/s1600/SCAN0645.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g8Ak6VxjmRQ/UYmg0zfa5hI/AAAAAAAAPuU/9Fvu3j0xs6U/s640/SCAN0645.JPG" width="481" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby Edith, with her parents, James William (Earl) Hunt and Ethel Modina Martindale &nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uIo9JGnOoQ0/UYmg0kFtDqI/AAAAAAAAPt4/_X_dJpgy3Wg/s1600/SCAN0643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uIo9JGnOoQ0/UYmg0kFtDqI/AAAAAAAAPt4/_X_dJpgy3Wg/s640/SCAN0643.JPG" width="440" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Edith on the left</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5j4YTvjqKXk/UYmgzIPAyZI/AAAAAAAAPts/iO-r7YstWMc/s1600/SCAN0599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5j4YTvjqKXk/UYmgzIPAyZI/AAAAAAAAPts/iO-r7YstWMc/s400/SCAN0599.JPG" width="338" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edith at 14 years old</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rCebkQnt9zA/UYmgzAsS_fI/AAAAAAAAPuA/lvCEDXeMexQ/s1600/SCAN0601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rCebkQnt9zA/UYmgzAsS_fI/AAAAAAAAPuA/lvCEDXeMexQ/s400/SCAN0601.JPG" width="357" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8g8VMW9PxyI/UYmgzhhV6FI/AAAAAAAAPuM/bpRHKv2w7kg/s1600/SCAN0613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8g8VMW9PxyI/UYmgzhhV6FI/AAAAAAAAPuM/bpRHKv2w7kg/s400/SCAN0613.JPG" width="306" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love her curls!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PAWXynGsGeg/UYmg0jBDkFI/AAAAAAAAPuI/xu6vAS6EvhA/s1600/SCAN0712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PAWXynGsGeg/UYmg0jBDkFI/AAAAAAAAPuI/xu6vAS6EvhA/s640/SCAN0712.JPG" width="476" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XcXaQ3bArLI/UYmgy0rdbYI/AAAAAAAAPto/YhGPe9jIhRU/s1600/SCAN0590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XcXaQ3bArLI/UYmgy0rdbYI/AAAAAAAAPto/YhGPe9jIhRU/s400/SCAN0590.JPG" width="275" /></a></div><span id="goog_1958533773"></span><span id="goog_1958533774"></span><br />Wasn't my Grandma a pretty young lady!?</div>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-68363609633424588842013-05-07T11:53:00.000-07:002013-05-07T12:16:51.495-07:00Travel Tuesday: Dad and Grandma Edith's Southwest VacationWhen my Dad, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/06/sentimental-sunday-tribute-to-dad.html">William Lee Brittain</a>, was about 13 or so, he and my Grandma, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/04/happy-birthday-grandma-edith.html">Edith Vivian Hunt Brittain</a>, took a trip to Oklahoma to visit relatives. On their way, they did a little sightseeing through the beautiful Southwest. I don't know who the people are who are with them. The older lady looks like she might be related to my paternal great grandmother, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/sunday-obituary-jessie-luetta-halstead.html">Jessie Louetta Halstead Brittain</a>, so it may a relative of hers. As is often the case, there are no markings on the backs of any of the photos.<br /><br />Grandma Edith and Grandpa Woodie Brittain both grew up in Oklahoma, and were married there before moving to California in 1940. Grandma Edith traveled via Greyhound Bus back home to Oklahoma often to visit her family and work on the family history with her cousin, Fritz.<br /><br />Here are some fun photos of Dad and Grandma's road trip through the Southwest!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0XfH760EGDk/UYhBvQrrw2I/AAAAAAAAPWk/H71CL6sJBNk/s1600/SCAN0479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0XfH760EGDk/UYhBvQrrw2I/AAAAAAAAPWk/H71CL6sJBNk/s400/SCAN0479.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Edith on the left, and Dad on the right</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lT_ETk5OEKo/UYhBvWVRQiI/AAAAAAAAPWg/N_62ju_RoWw/s1600/SCAN0482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lT_ETk5OEKo/UYhBvWVRQiI/AAAAAAAAPWg/N_62ju_RoWw/s400/SCAN0482.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QqxCRzYGWrs/UYhBvW_OaTI/AAAAAAAAPWc/pmkU1sUNn6A/s1600/SCAN0483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QqxCRzYGWrs/UYhBvW_OaTI/AAAAAAAAPWc/pmkU1sUNn6A/s400/SCAN0483.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anyone up for a carriage ride?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8CLeKzwm1lM/UYhBweEwIbI/AAAAAAAAPWs/laQJ6ljtazE/s1600/SCAN0486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8CLeKzwm1lM/UYhBweEwIbI/AAAAAAAAPWs/laQJ6ljtazE/s400/SCAN0486.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like Dad was getting ready to do some work!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EgLa-G6jkss/UYhBwxv9dhI/AAAAAAAAPWw/p4z1YsccX-Y/s1600/SCAN0487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EgLa-G6jkss/UYhBwxv9dhI/AAAAAAAAPWw/p4z1YsccX-Y/s640/SCAN0487.JPG" width="385" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad in the middle, and Grandma Edith on the right.<br />I think the gentleman on the left may have been a cousin.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9IMoeDefXTs/UYhBxgSrH2I/AAAAAAAAPW0/B0PBfCVz2DM/s1600/SCAN0488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9IMoeDefXTs/UYhBxgSrH2I/AAAAAAAAPW0/B0PBfCVz2DM/s640/SCAN0488.JPG" width="379" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E1AJWitu8Ac/UYhBx_3YByI/AAAAAAAAPXA/DEtw9pVUBkQ/s1600/SCAN0491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E1AJWitu8Ac/UYhBx_3YByI/AAAAAAAAPXA/DEtw9pVUBkQ/s400/SCAN0491.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />Fortunately, Dad never tired of the Southwest region, and I was lucky enough to go on a couple wonderful vacations with him and Mom before he passed away. Here's a photo from one of those trips that I'll never forget!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UBLsHrb_DWg/UYhCtOVAzvI/AAAAAAAAPXY/WQTC8Cvq7wU/s1600/SCAN0060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UBLsHrb_DWg/UYhCtOVAzvI/AAAAAAAAPXY/WQTC8Cvq7wU/s400/SCAN0060.JPG" width="375" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bill Brittain, Wendy Brittain, and Becky Bartram Brittain<br />I believe we were on our way to Chaco Canyon that day.&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-9459634410356338002013-05-01T08:08:00.000-07:002013-05-01T12:55:21.962-07:00Workday Wednesday: Great Grandpa James Hunt Working on Oil RigA couple of years ago, my mom gave me <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/05/sorting-saturday-i-hit-motherload-at.html">some boxes of photos </a>that had belonged to my dad and my Grandma Edith. Many are of my <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/08/not-so-wordless-wednesday-william.html">Hunt family</a>&nbsp;in Oklahoma,&nbsp;and there are quite a few that are a mystery to me. I sure do wish that my ancestors were better at labeling their family photos!<br /><div><br /></div><div>I did find some really neat photos that were tagged, including this one of my <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/06/sunday-obituary-james-william-hunt-1891.html">Great Grandfather</a>, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/06/wednesdays-child-james-william-hunt.html">James William (Earl) Hunt</a> at work on an oil rig in Oklahoma!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qo-7OVP8cws/UYBKlZXZUTI/AAAAAAAALvA/jzye_Ths8UI/s1600/Jim+Hunt+working+on+oil+rig.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Qo-7OVP8cws/UYBKlZXZUTI/AAAAAAAALvA/jzye_Ths8UI/s640/Jim+Hunt+working+on+oil+rig.JPG" width="467" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I think he's the one on the right, facing the camera. I don't know when this picture was taken, but I think it was in the early to mid 1920s. I know that they lived in the towns of Slick and Drumright in Creek County, Oklahoma, which both began as oil boom towns in the 1910s and 1920s. &nbsp;I understand that working on oil rigs today is hard work, and I can't imagine what a job that must have been <a href="http://www.post-gazette.com/stories/news/environment/oklahoma-town-drumright-celebrates-100-years-since-first-oil-rig-striking-641714/">nearly 100 years ago</a>!</div>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-4686655503730328932013-04-10T08:22:00.000-07:002013-04-10T08:22:10.683-07:00Wedding Wednesday: Uncle Dutch's Secret MarriageYou think you know all there is to know about a family member, and then the secrets start pouring out... I always knew that my <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/tombstone-tuesday-raymond-dutch-bartram.html">Great Uncle Dutch</a> (<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2013/04/happy-102nd-birthday-to-grandpa-john.html">Grandpa John</a>'s older brother, Raymond) had been married to his wife, Helen Prowse, until his horrible death in 1954. What I didn't know is that he had been married once previously. Apparently, none of his friends and family knew, either, until after Dutch and his first wife Olive (Ollie) Frager, had already been married for a year!<br /><br />This little news nugget in the July 19, 1934, edition of the Hayward Daily Review, tells the story:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZdqpyjQJ0Go/UWSVeXyoGzI/AAAAAAAALtw/tVomDA_ObKU/s1600/Dutch+Bartram+first+marriage.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZdqpyjQJ0Go/UWSVeXyoGzI/AAAAAAAALtw/tVomDA_ObKU/s400/Dutch+Bartram+first+marriage.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />Here's what the article says:<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><b>'Dutch' Bartram Wed To Pleasanton Girl</b></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">The marriage of Ray "Dutch" Bartram, employed by the Rowell ranch in Dublin canyon, to Miss Ollie Frager of Pleasanton, was revealed recently to their many friends. The young couple have been married over a year, which fact they have kept secret for some time. They were married at Fallon, Nev.</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Miss Frager is a popular school teacher in Pleasanton, and is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. William Frager.</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Ray Bartram is the son of Mrs. Alice Bartram of Richmond, and is quite well known in this community as a rodeo performer. The young couple are making their home in Pleasanton.</blockquote><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eQiLNwsSMqs/TTUCnF3oVlI/AAAAAAAAADk/8hFftU8na3g/s1600/Dutch+and+Grace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="137" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eQiLNwsSMqs/TTUCnF3oVlI/AAAAAAAAADk/8hFftU8na3g/s200/Dutch+and+Grace.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Raymond "Dutch" Bartram<br />and his sister, my Aunt Grace</td></tr></tbody></table>My guess is that Ollie and Dutch met while rodeoing together. I've seen both of them mentioned as winners in the various rodeos around the area. Ollie and my Aunt Grace Bartram are also mentioned as friends in various news accounts. I wonder why Uncle Dutch and Ollie kept their secret for so long?<br /><br />In any case, theirs seemed to be a short-lived romance: By July 1937, the Reno Evening Gazette shows that Ollie had filed for divorce against Uncle Dutch. Uncle Dutch and Aunt Helen (Prowse) subsequently applied for their marriage license in Reno in July 1943.<br /><br />On a side note, Ollie isn't the only Frager to have married into the Bartram family: my Great Aunt Mildred (Millie) Bartram (another of Grandpa John's many sisters) married Manuel Frager, who I believe was a cousin to Ollie.<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq"></blockquote>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-82147916142434682912013-04-04T08:47:00.000-07:002013-04-04T08:47:50.836-07:00Happy 102nd Birthday to Grandpa John Bartram!<b><span style="color: #38761d;">Today would have been my beloved Grandpa John's 102nd birthday! Grandpa always liked a good celebration, so I think I'll have a drink in his honor tonight. Meanwhile, here's the blog post I wrote two years ago for his 100th birthday. Enjoy!</span></b><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HoSzNc4nbi8/TZlfwpLi6UI/AAAAAAAAARM/IdBTJI_aZUE/s1600/Grandpa+John+portrait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HoSzNc4nbi8/TZlfwpLi6UI/AAAAAAAAARM/IdBTJI_aZUE/s200/Grandpa+John+portrait.jpg" width="175" /></a>If you've been following my posts, you know that I have a huge soft spot for my maternal grandpa, John Bartram. Today would have been Grandpa John's 100th birthday, so I'm dedicating this blog post to him.<br /><br />I've already written about&nbsp;<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/03/sports-center-saturday-rodeo.html">Grandpa's rodeo exploits</a>&nbsp;and his knack for telling tall tales. Here's a little bit more about his life. John Bartram was born on April 4, 1911, in Allen, Kansas, to&nbsp;<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/02/wedding-wednesday-joseph-bartram-and.html">Joseph and Alice Veale Bartram</a>. He was the fourth youngest of 17 (!!) kids. He and his siblings grew up on his&nbsp;<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/mappy-monday-bartram-farm-in-wabaunsee.html">father's farm</a>, and he left school after third grade to help out with the necessary chores that kept this large ranching family alive, including farm work, carpentry and horse shoeing.<br /><br />Grandpa had the adventurous spirit that was so prevalent in many of my ancestors. In 1924, at the young age of 13 years old, he made his first trip to California, hopping a west-bound freight. He stayed here for one year, working on ranches in the Clearlake area, before heading back home to Kansas. He again returned to California in around 1927 at the age of 16 (again riding a westbound freight train), and this time he stayed for good. He landed a job at the Rowell Ranch in Dublin Canyon (between Hayward and Dublin) where his brother, Dutch, was working as ranch foreman. He worked at the Rowell Ranch until the early 1950s.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zLLQYwe9F_g/TZlhfGfPGGI/AAAAAAAAARU/zzqPJU7mwio/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-04-03+at+11.12.42+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zLLQYwe9F_g/TZlhfGfPGGI/AAAAAAAAARU/zzqPJU7mwio/s320/Screen+shot+2011-04-03+at+11.12.42+PM.png" width="236" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Riding in a parade at the<br />1939 World's Fair in San Francisco</td></tr></tbody></table>In 1932, Grandpa began his career as a&nbsp;<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/finding-your-history-in-oddest-places.html">professional rodeo performer</a>, competing in rodeos all over the west for over 20 years. He bulldogged and roped steers and rode broncs and bulls. He joined rodeo greats Johnny and Frank Schneider and Joe Berl to make up the American team of rodeo riders sent to the&nbsp;<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/treasure-chest-thursday-actual-treasure.html">World Games in Australia</a>&nbsp;in 1936, where they competed against cowboys from Russia, Australia and other countries. He also participated in the rodeo portion of the World’s Fair in 1939 in San Francisco. This was a dangerous sport, but he competed with gusto. At one rodeo, Grandpa was bucked off a bull and broke his back.&nbsp; He recovered and continued his rodeo career, but the injury stayed with him through his life.<br /><br />In 1936, Grandpa met a pretty little rodeo queen at the Livermore Rodeo: my grandmother,<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/03/wedding-wednesday-happy-73rd.html">&nbsp;Donna Madsen</a>. They fell in love and were married in Reno, Nevada, on March 26, 1938. Grandma and Grandpa had four children: Clinton James, Brenda Rae, Rebecca Elizabeth (my mom); and Clay John. In 1959, Donna and John were involved in a terrible automobile accident which left my grandma brain damaged. She passed away in 1966, leaving Grandpa John to care for the family.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-psQPP9x1IzY/TZlhgaTirnI/AAAAAAAAARY/uD8nauHL6j0/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-04-03+at+11.11.55+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-psQPP9x1IzY/TZlhgaTirnI/AAAAAAAAARY/uD8nauHL6j0/s320/Screen+shot+2011-04-03+at+11.11.55+PM.png" width="232" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Back: Uncle Jim, Aunt Brenda, Mom (Becky)<br />Front: Uncle Clay, Grandma Donna, Grandpa John</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KJuv-Y68ST0/TZljzvmyZcI/AAAAAAAAARg/Y7zF8tmfrQc/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-04-03+at+11.19.48+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KJuv-Y68ST0/TZljzvmyZcI/AAAAAAAAARg/Y7zF8tmfrQc/s320/Screen+shot+2011-04-03+at+11.19.48+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">L-R: Uncle Jim, Aunt Brenda, Grandpa John, Mom, Uncle Clay</td></tr></tbody></table>As a grandfather, he was wonderful to all eight of his grandchildren. He was loving and attentive, and seemed to enjoy spending time with us. We probably didn't realize it at the time, but my sister, Cindy, and I were fortunate that Grandpa lived with us for part of our childhood. Here are some of my memories of growing up with Grandpa John:<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><ul><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M2chGqR0OKI/TZlfwfXdOeI/AAAAAAAAARI/NqWxyxowDPw/s1600/cindy+wendy+grandpa+john+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M2chGqR0OKI/TZlfwfXdOeI/AAAAAAAAARI/NqWxyxowDPw/s1600/cindy+wendy+grandpa+john+1.jpg" /></a><li><b>His tall tales and songs.</b>&nbsp;I've already written about his story of the buzzards who hoisted him out of a dry well. There were plenty of other stories and songs, including some that I can't repeat in polite company...&nbsp;</li><li><b>He never lacked a ride!</b>&nbsp;Grandpa was an alcoholic and we eventually had to take his drivers license away from him. It didn't slow him down, though. Whenever he wanted a six-pack of his favorite beer (Olympia), he'd saddle up his horse and ride a few miles down the road to the local country store. He didn't even need to dismount since the storekeeper would come out with his beer, take his money and then come back out with his change. Then, he and his horse would ride back up the hill and he'd enjoy a nice cold brew out on the porch.&nbsp;</li><li><b>His short-lived excitement at me getting my own drivers license.</b>&nbsp;At first, Grandpa was tickled about me getting my license because it meant I could take him into town for more affordable beer. I wasn't so excited about getting this chore, though, so I made the poor guy suffer it by taking him on joy rides and watching his knuckles turn white with every turn. When I moved away to college, Cindy continued the joy rides with Grandpa (including one infamous ride that entailed running over chickens, which he never really got over).</li><li><b>His wake-up calls.</b>&nbsp;I'm not a morning person, but Cindy and I raised sheep in 4-H, which meant we had to get up early each day to feed them. Grandpa made sure we were up every morning to take care of our sheep, and usually had to resort to tearing my bedclothes clear off of me in order to do the trick.</li><li><b>He called me Wendower</b>&nbsp;-- not sure why!</li><div style="text-align: right;"></div><li><b>His pride in us kids.&nbsp;</b>Grandpa didn't get to finish school, so he was proud of us kids and encouraged us to succeed. He helped us when he could, especially with our 4-H endeavors, and cheered us on in everything else.&nbsp;&nbsp;</li></ul><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nZJzm3QgREE/TZlf1IO-WvI/AAAAAAAAARQ/iLcq2tpcXR8/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-01-31+at+5.37.57+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nZJzm3QgREE/TZlf1IO-WvI/AAAAAAAAARQ/iLcq2tpcXR8/s320/Screen+shot+2011-01-31+at+5.37.57+PM.png" width="237" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Grandpa John and his girls!</td></tr></tbody></table>Grandpa John passed away on August 15, 1987. He had suffered for years from the effects of alcoholism, emphysema and, finally, lung cancer (not to mention a broken heart from losing his Donna). He was a strong guy with a strong heart, though, and fought these diseases for far longer than anyone expected he could. It was still quite a blow to all of us when we lost him. As I think of Grandpa John on this 100th anniversary of his birth, I'm happy to remember his warmth, humor, resilience and love.&nbsp;<b>Happy Birthday, Grandpa John!</b>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-62993504623727793492013-04-02T08:50:00.000-07:002013-04-02T08:50:24.844-07:00Talented Tuesday: Great Aunt Grace Bartram Bags the First Deer of the Season!I come from a family of deer hunters on both my Bartram and Brittain sides. I remember well the beginning of deer season when I was growing up. My dad, uncles, grandfathers, etc. would all get ready to head up to Kennedy Meadows in the Sierra mountains, and we'd all wonder what they were going to come back with: hopefully enough deer for Uncle Jimmy to make some of his amazingly delicious deer jerky. Oh, how I miss that jerky...<br /><br />While I'd always heard the hunting stories of the men in my clan&nbsp;(some of them tall tales, I'm sure), I had no idea that at least one of my female relatives was quite the shot, herself. Since I've subscribe to a couple of the online newspaper archives that are out there, I'm finding out all sorts of fun things about my family. Here's an August 2, 1932, Oakland Tribune newspaper article that tells the story of my great Aunt Grace (1913-1975, and Grandpa John's sister) bagging the very first deer of the season!<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A_1SUTE8W3c/UVosdeiw-LI/AAAAAAAALtg/F40FSEs7jz4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-04-01+at+5.33.46+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A_1SUTE8W3c/UVosdeiw-LI/AAAAAAAALtg/F40FSEs7jz4/s640/Screen+Shot+2013-04-01+at+5.33.46+PM.png" width="282" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Aunt Grace on the left, with Elizabeth Rowell on the right</td></tr></tbody></table>&nbsp;The article is a bit hard to read, so here's what it says:<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"><i>(Caption under the photo: It took two girl hunters to bag the first deer of the season in the Livermore hills. One shot from the rifle of Miss Grace Bartram (left), of Castro Valley, and this three-point, 180-pound buck was downed. Miss Bartram was accompanied on her first hunt by Miss Elizabeth Rowell, also of Castro Valley. -- Wallace photo)</i></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Hayward, Aug. 2 -- Her first shot in the first hunt brought Miss Grace Bartram, 21, Castro Valley girl, the first deer of the season.&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Just two hours after California's 1932 deer season officially opened yesterday, Miss Bartram and Miss Elizabeth Rowell, 18, also of Castro Valley, ran across a three-point buck in the Livermore hills near Sunol.</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">One shot from Miss Bartram's rifle and the first deer of the Livermore hills, one of the state's principal hunting sections, was bagged.</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Miss Bartram said it was the first time she had ever been deer hunting. She confessed to a slight case of "buck fever" after the the animal was downed, but today was back in the hills with Miss Rowell again on the hunt.</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">Taken to Don Harder's sports emporium here, Miss Bartram's deer was found to weigh in excess of 180 pounds. She won the Harder cup for the first deer bagged in this section. </blockquote><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>Not bad for her first shot of her first hunt on the first day of deer season!! &nbsp;</b></span><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq"></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq"></blockquote><br /><br />Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-63738496249986408262013-04-01T17:29:00.001-07:002013-04-01T17:29:19.650-07:00Revisited: Happy Birthday, Grandma Edith!!<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>Today would have been my Grandma Edith's 93rd birthday. Here's the post I wrote two years ago to celebrate this wonderful lady's birth!</b></span><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vIz69vuiZss/TZY2-Q-QBEI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/hatQLDqkjHM/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-04-01+at+1.35.20+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vIz69vuiZss/TZY2-Q-QBEI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/hatQLDqkjHM/s200/Screen+shot+2011-04-01+at+1.35.20+PM.png" width="151" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Edith Vivian Hunt<br />b. April 1, 1920</td></tr></tbody></table><br />My paternal grandmother, Edith Vivian Hunt Brittain, was born on this date, April 1, in 1920. And she was no fool! Since I've been following in Grandma Edith's genealogy footsteps, I'd like to take a moment to honor her memory.<br /><br />Edith Vivian Hunt was born in Slick, Creek County, Oklahoma to James William "Earl" Hunt and Ethel Modina Martindale Hunt. She was the older sister to Edgar James "Bud" Hunt and George Lee Hunt. She grew up in Oklahoma, and that's where she married my grandfather, Woodie Leroy Brittain, on August 18, 1938. They then moved to California shortly after that, settling in Hayward. There, Grandma and Grandpa had one son: my dad,&nbsp;<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/03/military-monday-bill-brittain-in-us.html">William Lee Brittain</a>, on October 28, 1942.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aD-fZGexnh8/TZY2_eTWstI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/vc61wEjMg6s/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-04-01+at+1.34.55+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aD-fZGexnh8/TZY2_eTWstI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/vc61wEjMg6s/s200/Screen+shot+2011-04-01+at+1.34.55+PM.png" width="135" /></a>Grandma and Grandpa stayed in the East Bay Area, eventually moving to Livermore. This is where my sister, Cindy, and I spent most of our time with Grandma Edith, and where our fond memories of her live. Grandma Edith was a wonderful grandmother! She was a bit childlike, herself, so she had no problem keeping up with Cindy and me, and seemed to love playing with us for hours on end. Here are some of my dearest memories of spending time with Grandma Edith:<br /><ul><li>There was a pond near their house in the Springtown neighborhood of Livermore, California. Grandma would save up the ends of her bread loaves until Cindy and I came to visit. Then, we'd walk over to the pond and feed the ducks. If we were lucky, Grandma would let us walk across the street to the 7-11 and get a Slurpee and some candy!</li><li>Grandma loved board games and often played Chinese Checkers and Monopoly with us. The Monopoly games were often marathon events, but Grandma had endless patience (and/or stamina!) and usually stuck with us to the end of each game.&nbsp;</li><li>Grandma Edith and I shared a love of black licorice. One of our favorite things to do was to buy a pack of the really long, skinny licorice strings and unfurl it. Then, each of us would take an end and start nibbling until we met in the middle with a sweet kiss.&nbsp;</li><li>Grandma's southern cooking! Oh, she made the best fried chicken and pecan pie and homemade biscuits and... Everything she made was wonderful. She also liked to fry her eggs in about an inch of bacon fat (I know -- could have had something to do with the hardening of the arteries she eventually suffered from). She was also great at letting Cindy and me "help" in the kitchen, and she often let me sneak sips of her coffee when Mom wasn't looking.&nbsp;</li><li>Her passion for genealogy. Grandma spent hours researching Grandpa Woodie's and her family histories. This was long before personal computers and the Internet. Grandma did it "old school style." I remember sitting with her while she read letters from cousins (near and distant) comparing notes on their research and answering questions for one another. I loved hearing about her regular trips to Oklahoma to visit her family there. I'm indebted to Grandma Edith for her dedication and hard work on our family tree, and for&nbsp;<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/hello-my-name-is-wendy-and-im-addicted.html">planting the genealogy seed that eventually grew in me</a>.</li></ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vK6Lzxk6ndw/TSfhHG_JHRI/AAAAAAAAAA0/BsZGNFRXWPE/s1600/2657136600_bceb4d1244_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vK6Lzxk6ndw/TSfhHG_JHRI/AAAAAAAAAA0/BsZGNFRXWPE/s320/2657136600_bceb4d1244_o.jpg" width="228" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L1-BOOMxrdE/TTZcFvlA1hI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/sZiEz46bmAY/s1600/edith+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L1-BOOMxrdE/TTZcFvlA1hI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/sZiEz46bmAY/s320/edith+car.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Grandma was also a breast cancer survivor, and battled that beast with bravery. She eventually was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease at some point during my teenage years. It was brutal for all of us to watch her decline and see her once curious mind and playful disposition deteriorate. She finally passed away on June 2, 1993, but we really lost her long before then. She's buried at the National Cemetery in San Bruno, California, and I'm lucky that I live near enough that I'm able to visit and pay my respects fairly often. I still miss Grandma Edith, and I'm proud to honor her on this special day.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EF0wb9p9wC4/TZY-JqPkeQI/AAAAAAAAARA/kmtL23G0RqY/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-04-01+at+2.05.03+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="357" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EF0wb9p9wC4/TZY-JqPkeQI/AAAAAAAAARA/kmtL23G0RqY/s400/Screen+shot+2011-04-01+at+2.05.03+PM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Grandma Edith with me and my little sister, Cindy</td></tr></tbody></table>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-17181445923394770172013-03-31T07:57:00.000-07:002013-03-31T09:07:34.038-07:00Sentimental Sunday: Happy Easter from 1968!<span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>Happy Easter, everyone.&nbsp;</b></span><br /><br />We're getting ready to head out to my Uncle Clay's place for our annual Easter picnic. Thunderstorms are in the forecast, but they have a big barn, so we'll be safe and dry. We just need to put our heads together to decide how we're going to do the Easter Egg hunts (one for the kids, and one for the adults).<br /><br />Meanwhile, here's an Easter photo from 45 years ago: it was our first annual family Easter picnic in in Livermore, California. Over the years, our picnics have been out on Mines Road and Alden Lane in Livermore, and then they moved to my immediate family's homes on Koster Road and Bird Road in Tracy. I recall a couple of Easters<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/04/family-recipe-friday-aunt-raes-crabby.html"> up the hill on Bird Road</a> when the adult Easter Egg hunts included the addition of Easter Beers, often hidden in the field, under dried cow patties. Mom tells me, though, that this tradition actually started at one of our Easters up on Mines Road. We country folk know how to put on a good party!<br /><br />Since my dad passed away in 2003, Uncle Clay and his girlfriend, Robin, have taken over the family Easter gatherings at their small ranch in Stevinson, California, and they've kept our long-standing tradition of good food, games and multiple Easter Egg hunts.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOqEtIbfgIs/UVb1LqvVkSI/AAAAAAAALtQ/thnLJ9GJl7U/s1600/Bartram+Easter+1968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="336" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hOqEtIbfgIs/UVb1LqvVkSI/AAAAAAAALtQ/thnLJ9GJl7U/s400/Bartram+Easter+1968.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />Here's the attendance list at our First Family Easter Picnic at the Roderick Ranch on Mines Road in Livermore, 1968:<br /><br /><a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/sunday-obituary.html">Great Grandpa Louie Madsen;</a> <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/06/not-so-wordless-wednesday-livermore.html">Aunt Rae (Madsen)</a> and <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/04/sentimental-sunday-men-in-my-family.html">Uncle Rob Christensen</a> and my cousin Stan; Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Trixie Madsen and my cousins, Judy, Alan and Maryann; <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/07/sentimental-sunday-women-in-my-family.html">Aunt Brenda (Bartram)</a> and Uncle Art Davina and my cousins, Dee Dee, Glenn and Vikki; <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/07/sentimental-sunday-women-in-my-family.html">Aunt Bobbie </a>(Anselmo) and Uncle Jim Bartram and my cousins Debbie and Leslie; <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/04/sentimental-sunday-men-in-my-family.html">Uncle Clay</a>; Uncle Art's mother, Lucille (Tatum) Davina (who we all called Nana. She just passed away last week at the age of 100!) and her daughters, Mary Lou and Dorothy, and Dorothy's kids, Annie, John and Mark. Mom (Becky Bartram Brittain), my little sister, Cindy, and I are also in there, of course. I'm the one standing in front on the left. <br /><br /><a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/08/sentimental-sunday-grandma-donna.html">Uncle Jim</a> wasn't in the photo because he was taking it (where's the tripod when you need one?). And, where was <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/04/happy-100th-birthday-to-grandpa-john.html">Grandpa John</a>? My dad, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/06/sentimental-sunday-tribute-to-dad.html">Bill Brittain</a>, is also missing from the photo. He was a firefighter for Alameda County at that time, so my best guess is that he drew the short straw and had to work that day.<br /><br />I was three years old, so I don't really have a strong memory of this particular Easter. However, there's a certain smell in the air when I'm out in the country that always makes me think of the Easters we celebrated when I was a kid.<br /><br />It's so sad to think that so many of these people are no longer with us: Grandpa Louie, Uncle Rob and Aunt Rae, Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Trixie, Maryann, Nana, Grandpa John and especially my Uncle Jim and Dad. I'm sure we'll all think of them today, though, as we continue the tradition, now with added family members and friends, that they all helped to start 35 years ago!<br /><span style="color: #93c47d;"><b><br /></b></span><b><span style="color: #6aa84f;">I hope you're all enjoying your Easter Sunday, as well!</span></b>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-62288757902943787282013-02-18T00:55:00.000-08:002013-02-19T09:56:53.054-08:00Mystery Monday: Welcome to the Family, Aunt Margaret!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HoSzNc4nbi8/TZlfwpLi6UI/AAAAAAAAARM/IdBTJI_aZUE/s1600/Grandpa+John+portrait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HoSzNc4nbi8/TZlfwpLi6UI/AAAAAAAAARM/IdBTJI_aZUE/s320/Grandpa+John+portrait.jpg" width="281" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandpa John Bartram</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You ever have one of those ancestors you <i>think</i> you know everything about, but then they throw you a curveball you weren't expecting? If you've been researching your own family history long enough, I think you know what I mean.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My big ancestral surprise came from none other than my Grandpa John Bartram. You know, the grandfather I write about <i>all the time</i>. Not quite two years ago, I wrote a post about Grandpa John's life on what would have been his <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/04/happy-100th-birthday-to-grandpa-john.html">100th birthday</a>, and I included information about his wife, my Grandma Donna, and his four kids: my Uncle Jim, Aunt Brenda, Uncle Clay and Mom (Becky). What I didn't mention in that story was that, when Grandpa John passed away in 1987, he left us with a bit of a mystery about his life that we've been trying to solve ever since.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">To recap,&nbsp;</span><span style="background-color: white;">John Bartram (1911-1987), was one of 17 children and the youngest boy of the bunch. He married my grandma, Donna Madsen, in 1938, and they had four children (including my mom). Grandma Donna died in 1966, about seven years after she and Grandpa had been in a horrific car accident that left Grandma with brain damage and other health issues.&nbsp;</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;">When Grandpa John died in 1987, at the age of 76, I started hearing odd rumors about him possibly being married before Grandma Donna and having a daughter, who would be the older half-sister to my mom and her siblings. Now, Grandpa's generation were pretty good at keeping secrets. Occasionally, odd information and rumors seeped out after some alcohol intake, and then it would quickly be recanted, so we never had much to go on. My Aunt Brenda knew that I was dabbling in our family history, and encouraged me to do a little research to see what I could dig up. Of course, this was before the internet, and we didn't even have any names or dates from this possible earlier marriage and child.&nbsp;</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Over the years, I've searched for a woman who might be my mom's half-sister, but have had no luck finding any info on her or Grandpa's previous relationship: no birth, marriage or divorce records were surfacing in any of the locations where it made sense that he'd lived. I did find the marriage application for Grandpa John and Grandma Donna and, where it asks if either party had been married before, they both claimed "No". OK... So, I knew that Grandpa John was a bit of a wild cowboy, as well as a handsome young man, so it's possible that he had a child out of wedlock. Still, as the years went on, I wasn't having much luck with this mystery.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Meanwhile, I started this family history blog a couple of years ago and, even though I wasn't terribly active on it for quite awhile, it still got daily hits. One hit that changed our life came this past June: I had been at a family party one day, and Aunt Brenda asked me, again, if I'd had any luck getting closer to finding her older sister. I told her that, honestly, at this point I thought that, if she was even still alive, she was going to have to find us. Well, when I got home that afternoon I checked my email and found a message from a woman named Susan in Oregon who emailed me to say that she had found information on John Bartram on my blog, and she was pretty sure that he was her Grandpa John, too! We compared notes and, sure enough, her mom is my Grandpa John's oldest daughter, and my own Aunt Margaret!&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Eureka!!!&nbsp;</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I couldn't wait to tell Mom and Aunt Brenda. Luckily, Aunt Brenda was staying at Mom's house that night, so I got to break the fantastic news to them together.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It didn't take long for us to fill in the blanks of how Margaret fits into the family. As I've mentioned before, Grandpa John came to California from Kansas for a short time as a teenager, and then returned for good in around 1927 with his parents and several siblings. The family settled in Clearlake, Lake County, California. According to what Susan had told me, as well as a birth record I found at FamilySearch.org, Margaret was born in Lake County in April 1929 to John Bartram and Perrilee Adkins. When looking at the 1930 US census for Lake County, I found Perillee's (aka Pearl) mother and several siblings living right next door to Grandpa's widowed mother, my great grandma Alice Veale Bartram, and her youngest daughters. It seems that Grandpa John fell in love with the next door neighbor girl and got her 'in the family way', so to speak!</span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tmdu4QpjZSs/USHmnPKXJYI/AAAAAAAAA4A/oqScXbjiYL0/s1600/John+Bartram+-+Pearl+marriage+record.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tmdu4QpjZSs/USHmnPKXJYI/AAAAAAAAA4A/oqScXbjiYL0/s400/John+Bartram+-+Pearl+marriage+record.jpg" width="271" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">May 1929 marriage record for John Bartram<br />and Pearl (Perrilee) Adkins</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now that I had some names and dates, I've been able to find a few official records that document Grandpa John and Pearl's marriage, and subsequent divorce, as well as Margaret's birth. <a href="https://familysearch.org/pal:/MM9.1.1/KZ3K-59R">John and Pearl married in May 1929</a>, about a month after Margaret was born. From what Margaret and Susan have told us, their marriage was short-lived and rocky, which led to an unstable early childhood for Margaret. It also seems that Grandpa John's family, particularly his mother and his younger sisters, did not approve of Pearl and her family, and that there was some bad blood between them. I'm sure that was made more uncomfortable for the couple, given that the two mothers-in-law lived next door to each other! I did find a divorce record at the San Francisco court house (handily, a short bus ride from my office!) that shows Pearl sued for divorce in 1932, citing willful desertion, and it was finally granted to her in 1935. That was around the time that Grandpa John was traveling quite a bit while he competed in rodeos, and the 1940 census shows that he was also living down in Hayward, California, by 1935. Our combined guess is that the dissolution of the marriage had to do with several factors: they were both young and seemingly a bit wild, Grandpa liked to drink (and apparently got in trouble at least once when he was entertaining friends while he was supposed to be watching baby Margaret), and they had families that didn't care for each other (to say the least).&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After Pearl and John divorced, Pearl married another man, John Creed, who would later adopt Margaret. By this time, Grandpa had already remarried and started his new family with my Grandma Donna. Apparently, Grandpa John refused to sign the adoption papers until he got to see his first daughter one more time. That was the last time Margaret remembers seeing her biological father.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fast forward to now: it turns out Margaret lives in southern Oregon, just a few miles away from my cousin, Dee Dee (Aunt Brenda's oldest daughter). So Mom, Rodney (my step-father), Aunt Brenda, Uncle George (her husband) and I drove up to Oregon the weekend after July 4, 2012, just a few short weeks after we'd found each other, to meet Margaret and her daughter, Susan (my new cousin who made the initial connection with me). They couldn't believe that we had been looking for them for so long.&nbsp;Susan later told me that she had found the information about Grandpa John earlier, but waited about a month to email me because she was nervous that we might not want anything to do with them. She couldn't have been more mistaken!! &nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JNDzd6UvTtk/USHiCPBZhNI/AAAAAAAAA3k/9J3yfa-o4fw/s1600/photo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JNDzd6UvTtk/USHiCPBZhNI/AAAAAAAAA3k/9J3yfa-o4fw/s400/photo+1.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Mom, Aunt Margaret and Aunt Brenda: Sisters!!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our first meeting was just wonderful. I loved watching Mom, Aunt Brenda and my new Aunt Margaret get to know each other, and Dee Dee and I had fun comparing notes with our new cousin, Susan. The conversation flowed easily and the afternoon ended too quickly. We had many stories to tell Aunt Margaret and Susan, and we were happy to hear their stories, too. We also shared lots and lots of photos with each other. We were sad to know that Margaret had not known a loving childhood relationship with her father's family, but we're happy that she can now begin a new relationship with her half-siblings!</span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since our first meeting, the sisters have kept in touch via phone calls. Aunt Brenda has also been back up to Oregon to visit Aunt Margaret and Susan, and has had the pleasure of meeting her husband, Lewis, and at least one of their three sons. I enjoy keeping up with Susan on Facebook and the occasional phone call, and look forward to meeting the rest of my new cousins in the not-too-distant future and having them meet the rest of their Bartram family (remember, Grandpa John was the youngest boy of 17 kids, so there are a LOT of us).&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think that meeting her half-sisters has been a bit healing for Aunt Margaret as she hadn't known her biological father since she was a little girl, and never had siblings growing up. We're just thrilled to FINALLY solve this nagging mystery and have her as part of our family!</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x_PEQkbPtAo/USHiCDxnzhI/AAAAAAAAA3g/WzRlxN_jYgo/s1600/photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="303" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x_PEQkbPtAo/USHiCDxnzhI/AAAAAAAAA3g/WzRlxN_jYgo/s400/photo+2.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">L-R: Me, Aunt Margaret, Mom (Becky), Aunt Brenda, Dee Dee, Susan</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">BTW, Aunt Margaret looks SO MUCH like her father and my beloved Grandpa John!</span></div>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-15590968675587621022013-02-14T01:00:00.000-08:002013-02-14T09:04:07.914-08:00Treasure Chest Thursday: Great Grandma & Grandpa Madsen's Drop-Leaf TableWhen I was growing up, one the pieces of furniture that was always around the house was this cute, little drop-leaf table that my mom was very fond of. I knew that it had been a wedding present for my great grandparents, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/sunday-obituary.html">Lars Hansen Madsen</a> (Grandpa Louie) and his wife, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/02/church-record-sunday-hannah-madsens.html">Johanna Bruhns</a>, but I didn't know its whole story until fairly recently.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D5QB4T7Lc_4/URxakWmioYI/AAAAAAAAA2g/-w3nb40PGEo/s1600/photo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D5QB4T7Lc_4/URxakWmioYI/AAAAAAAAA2g/-w3nb40PGEo/s400/photo+1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Louie (1893-1971) and Hannah (1886-1965) married on April 4, 1917, in San Francisco, California. I don't know who gifted them this wonderful drop-leaf table, but it has remained in the family, mostly, ever since. A little over a year ago, when I moved into my current apartment, my mom told me that she remembered the table being in her family when she was a young girl. This means that Grandpa and Grandma Madsen must have given the table to their oldest daughter and my maternal grandmother, Donna Madsen Bartram (1919-1966). Mom said that the table, by that time, was pretty scratched up and not in the best of shape, likely due to the family moving around. However, she always loved the little table and had hoped to have it for her own, someday, when she got married herself.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mDyw87ePd3A/URxd4xA3LWI/AAAAAAAAA3I/rb55Bj6S3Ko/s1600/Louis-Hannah+Madsen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mDyw87ePd3A/URxd4xA3LWI/AAAAAAAAA3I/rb55Bj6S3Ko/s400/Louis-Hannah+Madsen.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lars Hansen Madsen and Johanna Bruhns</td></tr></tbody></table>At some point, after my <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/03/wedding-wednesday-happy-73rd.html">Grandpa John and Grandma Donna</a> were in a horrible car accident in 1959, and Grandma was in poor heath due to her head injury and other ailments, Grandma Donna's best friend, Marie, came to the house and took the little table away. Mom was understandably disappointed: it seemed that this piece of her childhood would no longer be hers. However, when my mom and dad got married in 1964, Mom got an amazing gift that she wasn't expecting: Marie had taken the table, but not to keep for herself. She'd had the piece refinished to its original glory and gave it to Mom and Dad for their wedding!<br /><br />As I mentioned above, the table always had a special place in our various family homes when I was growing up, and I think I loved it just as much as my mom did. I was always careful not to scratch it when dusting the furniture, and I hoped that someday Mom and Dad would pass it down to me, perhaps as a wedding gift.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d58M4Aen0zk/URxamrxrnoI/AAAAAAAAA2o/GQobrPkE5Uc/s1600/photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d58M4Aen0zk/URxamrxrnoI/AAAAAAAAA2o/GQobrPkE5Uc/s320/photo+2.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>Well, the years have passed, I'm a middle-aged woman and I'm still not married (it's ok -- I'm quite happy as a single girl!). So, when I moved into my darling 1920s apartment -- complete with built-ins, original hardwood floors and brimming with character -- I knew that Great Grandma and Grandpa Madsen's drop-leaf table would be a perfect addition to my new home. One day, I gathered the courage to make my case to Mom: I may or may not ever get married, but I'd really love to have that table someday, and would she mind offering it to me as a house-warming gift? As luck would have it, she and her husband, Rodney, were already looking for a bigger piece of storage furniture, and the drop-leaf was taking up space where that new piece would go. So, they loaded it up in their pickup truck and brought it to me that very weekend!!<br /><br />I see our family treasure every morning when I walk out of my bedroom and head down the hall to get ready for my day. It holds Grandpa John and Grandma Donna's wedding photo and a Christmas picture of my Mom, Aunt Brenda and Uncle Jimmy when they were very little (even before Uncle Clay was born). I need to have Great Grandma and Grandpa Madsen's photo framed and included on the table, in a place of honor among their family. But I think of them both often, and I think they would be happy that their great grand daughter still cherishes this lovely piece of furniture that was given to them as they started their own lives together nearly 100 years ago. Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-78925636425261527482013-02-06T09:05:00.001-08:002013-02-13T20:41:08.436-08:00Wedding Wednesday: John Bartram and Esther Meredith<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1rCwjZzvEpE/TWs8bdJ_a4I/AAAAAAAAAKY/_2JzqYoFHPg/s1600/2656387365_dee99d652b_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1rCwjZzvEpE/TWs8bdJ_a4I/AAAAAAAAAKY/_2JzqYoFHPg/s320/2656387365_dee99d652b_o.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John and Esther Bartram are the older<br />couple seated. My great grandfather,<br />Joseph Bartram, is the handsome<br />gentleman standing in the rear.</td></tr></tbody></table>While visiting my cousins, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2012_06_01_archive.html">Steven and Carl</a>, in Wales last summer, we got to tour the farmhouse in Llanrothal, Hereford, England (just on the border with Wales), where Carl's and my second great grandparents, John and Esther (Meredith) Bartram, lived and we also checked out the church where they were married. It got me thinking that we must be able to find their marriage records somewhere. Sure enough, the UK <a href="http://www.gro.gov.uk/gro/content/">General Records Office (GRO)</a> was my ticket to locating not only John and Esther's marriage records, but also birth and death records for several of my English and Welsh ancestors.<br /><div><br /></div><div>The GRO maintains the United Kingdom national archive of all births, marriages and deaths dating back to 1837. Prior to that date, civil and parish records are probably your best bet. The GRO records can be ordered online for about $15.00 each (£9.75), and it will help to know the BMD (Birth Marriage Death) index number for the certificate you are ordering. Luckily the BMD numbers are pretty easy to find at the <a href="http://www.freebmd.org.uk/">FreeBMD</a> website, and the ordering instructions on the GRO website are quite simple to follow.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>After I got home from my trip to Wales, I decided to take the plunge and order several certificates from the GRO. It broke my bank account for awhile, but I think it was a worthwhile investment. Here's the official marriage certificate for John and Esther:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BDPFF3AGDa0/URGcWW-PvvI/AAAAAAAAA1w/YeRTg86tsgs/s1600/John+Esther+marriage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BDPFF3AGDa0/URGcWW-PvvI/AAAAAAAAA1w/YeRTg86tsgs/s400/John+Esther+marriage.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The certificate shows that John Bartrem (sp) and Esther Meredith were married on July 12, 1846, in the Church of Welsh Newton, in Hereford County, England. John, a bachelor, was an innkeeper living in Welsh Newton, and Mary, a spinster, had been living in Dixton, Montmouth, Wales. It also shows that John's father was Samuel Bartrem, a labourer, and Esther's father was Joseph Meredith, a sawyer. The marriage was witnessed by John's brother, William, and Esther's sister, Mary. William and Mary eventually married each other!</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's the <a href="http://herefordshirechurches.co.uk/w/welsh-newton-st-mary-the-virgin/">Church of Welsh Newton (St. Mary the Virgin)</a> where John and Esther were married, and where Esther's parents, Joseph and Sarah are buried:</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mTbfbi9SeS4/URGZFzsdfiI/AAAAAAAAA1U/ZWXEFZ_3Wk8/s1600/photo+6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mTbfbi9SeS4/URGZFzsdfiI/AAAAAAAAA1U/ZWXEFZ_3Wk8/s400/photo+6.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cousin Steven, taking in the view</td></tr></tbody></table><div>And, here's the house where they lived and farmed in Llanrothal, Hereford, England:</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-clCLYZXvVME/URGZFxZi19I/AAAAAAAAA1Q/8ilP_brjrKg/s1600/photo+7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-clCLYZXvVME/URGZFxZi19I/AAAAAAAAA1Q/8ilP_brjrKg/s400/photo+7.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The current owner of the house estimated that it's probably a few hundred years old. Obviously, the structure has been altered over the years, but the owners have lovingly restored the interior to a state where it shows off some of the original features, such as wood beams and stone fireplaces and alcoves. John and Esther Bartram had a lovely home in a beautiful setting.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-72371901169371043962013-02-05T00:01:00.000-08:002013-02-13T20:41:48.464-08:00Tombstone Tuesday: An Unexpected Cousin In My Own Backyard!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-etRb4fgpOC8/URBhdpbkNsI/AAAAAAAAAzw/9rPNhyYTy-o/s1600/photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-etRb4fgpOC8/URBhdpbkNsI/AAAAAAAAAzw/9rPNhyYTy-o/s320/photo+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I love cemeteries. I mean, what genealogist DOESN'T love a good cemetery. A lot of my friends (and some of my family) think it's a bit weird and macabre that I like to visit old burial grounds when I'm traveling. But, I think they are wonderful places full of history, stories and, odd as it may sound, life!<br /><br />Some of my favorite cemeteries (other than where my own people are buried, of course) are the eerie, yet somehow romantic, above-ground crypts in New Orleans, the old, urban graveyards that now house many of our country's founders and patriots in Boston and the small, hidden-away burial grounds along narrow paths in the English and Welsh countryside.<br /><br />My favorite local cemetery, however, is the 226-acre <a href="http://www.mountainviewcemetery.org/history.html">Mountain View Cemetery</a> nestled in lower hills of Oakland, California. It's just up the hill from me, and I can walk to it from my apartment. It is truly one of the most splendid cemeteries I've ever visited, and it has its own unique history that is just as fascinating as the histories of some of its illustrious inhabitants.<br /><br />Mountain View Cemetery was established in 1863 and designed by famous landscape architect, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_Law_Olmsted">Frederick Law Olmsted</a>, who also designed Manhattan's Central Park, both UC Berkeley and Stanford Universities and the Midway Plaisance at the 1893 World's Fair in Chicago, among many other notable parks and projects around the United States.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-brxVB1ynxks/URBhXdlM4VI/AAAAAAAAAzY/7d6mYJittp8/s1600/photo+%25285%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-brxVB1ynxks/URBhXdlM4VI/AAAAAAAAAzY/7d6mYJittp8/s400/photo+%25285%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the top of Mountain View Cemetery on a rainy day, <br />looking out toward the San Francisco skyline</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The cemetery is a feast for the eyes when it comes to grandiose crypts and headstones that pay tribute to some of California's important historical figures, including <a href="http://www.themonthly.com/images2007/Ind%20Tombs/ArchGhiradelliPhotoJul07.jpg">Domingo Ghirardelli</a> (of the famous <a href="http://www.ghirardelli.com/">Ghirardelli Chocolate Company</a>), J.A. Folger (founder of <a href="http://www.folgerscoffee.com/">Folgers Coffee</a>), noted California architect <a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8287/7867449932_816b717532_z.jpg">Julia Morgan</a> and several former California governors, senators and other notable politicians.&nbsp;</div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uhvW5P2j1pw/URBhdiA8J6I/AAAAAAAAAzs/mvtO0fXNaHE/s1600/photo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uhvW5P2j1pw/URBhdiA8J6I/AAAAAAAAAzs/mvtO0fXNaHE/s400/photo+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />However, Mountain View is also the burial place of nearly 200,000 regular souls who now rest among the beautiful scenery and dozens of winding pathways that attract walkers, bicyclists and picnickers along with those who come to pay tribute to their loved ones. I love meandering along the paths that curve along the gentle hills of this park-like cemetery. According to the cemetery website, "Mountain View is distinguished from other cemeteries by its architect's vision of man and nature and their relationship to each other." And, it's true. It's one of those rare places where you <i>know</i> that you're in the middle of an urban geography, however you're free to shrug off the stress and confines of the city and bask in the nature -- and, on a sunny day, the incredible views -- that Mountain View offers.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6j8wR2jhXas/URBhecI9_RI/AAAAAAAAAz0/Z3A_KRp0mLI/s1600/photo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6j8wR2jhXas/URBhecI9_RI/AAAAAAAAAz0/Z3A_KRp0mLI/s400/photo+4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The GAR (Grand Army of the Republic) Civil War burial plot at Mountain View Cemetery</td></tr></tbody></table>So, the title of this post mentions something about a cousin, right? Well, one day last summer, I went out for a hike at Mountain View. Since there are so many paths one can choose, I like to mix it up in order to see new views and explore different burial plots, such as the Jewish section and the <a href="http://www.oaklandhistory.com/files/gar.html">Civil War plot</a>. Really, I see something new every time I'm there. So, this one day, I was tooling around a plot where I hadn't spent much time before. I don't know what made me turn to look at this one particular tombstone, but there it was:<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JY2aHgomePI/URBhdu0wq1I/AAAAAAAAAzo/5EKNxkdsfTk/s1600/photo+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JY2aHgomePI/URBhdu0wq1I/AAAAAAAAAzo/5EKNxkdsfTk/s400/photo+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My cousin, John Milton Eddy, and family</td></tr></tbody></table>&nbsp;I first noticed the surname: Eddy. Hey, I have Eddys in my tree! I looked a little closer, and this guy, John Milton Eddy (1800-1862), was born in Middleboro, Massachusetts. Hey, that's where my original Pilgrim, Samuel Eddy, settled in the 1630s! I guessed that this <i>had</i> to be a long-lost relative, so I snapped the above photo and went home to do a little sleuthing. Turns out, John Milton Eddy is my 3rd cousin, 7 times removed (thanks to Ancestry.com for doing that bit of calculation for me). John and I are both descended from my 10th great grandparents, <a href="http://www.americanancestors.org/pilgrim-families-samuel-eddy/">Samuel Eddy and Elizabeth Savory</a>, who arrived at Plymouth Harbor on the Handmaid on October 29, 1630.<br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EvBdpQXJpSs/URCwdaCCyTI/AAAAAAAAA0w/_rozdqQf2zw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-02-04+at+11.08.58+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EvBdpQXJpSs/URCwdaCCyTI/AAAAAAAAA0w/_rozdqQf2zw/s320/Screen+Shot+2013-02-04+at+11.08.58+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Death notice in the Sacramento Daily Union<br />for Jane Caroline "Carrie" Eddy</td></tr></tbody></table>Perhaps, you may have noticed that John Milton and his daughter, Jane Caroline Eddy, died in Eureka, California. So, why are they buried 275 miles south of there, in Oakland? I was curious about that, so I went to the cemetery office and asked to see the burial records. (On a side note, the volunteer at the office was a little incredulous when she asked what was my relationship to the deceased and I answered, "He's my 3rd cousin, 7 times removed!") After a bit of persuading, she finally brought out some papers, including several pieces of correspondence regarding the plot, and made copies for me. It turns out, John and his wife, Olive Sanders Eddy, journeyed from Massachusetts to California sometime between 1841 (when youngest daughter, Jane Caroline, was born in Boston) and 1850, likely during the Gold Rush period. Jane, nicknamed "Carrie", died from influenza at the very young age of 16 in 1857. John Milton died just five years later, also in Eureka. Olive later went to live in San Francisco with her granddaughter, Lizzie Eddy Atkinson (whose mother, Eliza, was another of John and Olive's daughters) and Lizzie's husband, David Watt Horsburgh. When Olive died after a long illness, in 1885, David and Lizzie purchased the plot at Mountain View and made arrangements for John and Jane's remains to be moved from Eureka to finally rest with Olive in Oakland. The other two people listed on the gravestone are Martin White (1826-1901), who appears to be a family member or close friend (and shows up on the 1850 US census with them), and Antoinette Magruder Stone (1830-1916), who was a "very old friend of family." From David Horsburgh's correspondence with the cemetery officials, it seems that several others are buried in the plot, including several members of a Wood family, who seem to be connected with John and Olive's daughter, Eliza.<br /><br />I'm still learning more about John Milton Eddy and his family who were early pioneers in California. I want to know what drew him to California? How did he die? What kind of man was this distant cousin of mine? Are there any portraits of them??? As I discover more tidbits about John and his family, I'll be sure to report them here. Meanwhile, I now have a reason, other than the brisk exercise and stunning views, to walk around Mountain View Cemetery: I have family to visit!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jdcYhuQRW5k/URCXCpXmkdI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/LI5vTx-x3dM/s1600/photo-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jdcYhuQRW5k/URCXCpXmkdI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/LI5vTx-x3dM/s400/photo-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-87187578171040683712013-01-29T08:18:00.000-08:002013-01-29T08:18:33.728-08:00Talented Tuesday: Mom, Budding Author At Age 10<div class="tr_bq">I think I mentioned last week that I've recently subscribed to <a href="http://www.newspaperarchive.com/">NewspaperArchive</a>, an online repository of newspapers from around the US and across the globe that claims to span the years from 1607 to the present. Old newspapers are a great place to find all sorts of information about our ancestors and how they may have lived, especially if they came from small towns where the newspapers covered even the smallest events. While online subscription services may make it easier to find articles in certain publications, you don't necessarily need to pay good money. I've discovered old stories in my own hometown paper just by going to its website and searching the archives.&nbsp;</div><div class="tr_bq"><br /></div><div class="tr_bq">I've found a crazy amount of newspaper articles about my family members in the last week while messing around in NewspaperArchive, particularly articles that covered my Grandpa John and Uncle Dutch's rodeo competitions in California. In Kansas, there are decades worth of mentions in the society pages of the Emporia Gazette about the comings and goings of my <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/mappy-monday-bartram-farm-in-wabaunsee.html">Bartram relatives</a> (and we thought there was no privacy on the internet...).</div><br />One big surprise, though, came to me in the Sunday, June 2, 1957, edition of the <a href="http://www.insidebayarea.com/oakland-tribune">Oakland Tribune</a> in Oakland, California. There, at the top of the page, was a prize-winning story by little 10-year-old (actually 11, by the time that edition ran)&nbsp;<a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/05/sentimental-sunday-happy-birthday-mom.html">Becky Bartram</a>, about her beloved dog, Mitzi.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VTnEEXSBvvY/UQceoqjS4kI/AAAAAAAAAyo/9UXY2_3LMmM/s1600/Becky+Mitzi+copy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VTnEEXSBvvY/UQceoqjS4kI/AAAAAAAAAyo/9UXY2_3LMmM/s400/Becky+Mitzi+copy.png" width="345" /></a></div><br />It didn't take long for me to realize that this talented writer was my MOM! I posted the story on her Facebook page the other night, and she was so surprised to see it. She didn't even remember writing this story. I've always known that Mitzi was an important part of my mom's childhood, because she still talks about her to this day. I've also always known that Mom was a good writer, and I hope that rubbed off a little bit on me!<br /><br />It's a bit difficult to read the story in the above image, so here's the text:<br /><blockquote><span style="color: #38761d;">A Story of Mitzi, Beloved Pet<br />Becky Bartram, 10 Years<br />Prize Winner&nbsp;</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="color: #38761d;">I got Mitzi four years ago when I was six years old. She is an Australian shepherd. She was just a puppy then. She has been with our family ever since. She is a well-behaved dog. She is clean and she likes everyone. She comes in the house at night and in the daytime. She has had two litters of pups.&nbsp;</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="color: #38761d;">One dog out of the first litter looks just like her. She likes to play with me. One of her favorite games is tug-of-war. We use a rope to play. She puts the rope in her mouth and I put it in my hand. We try to see who ends up with the rope. She always does. Mitzi likes to ride in the car with my family. Mitzi is a very pretty dog.&nbsp;</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="color: #38761d;">Everyone likes her, especially me. Our family treats her like one of us, and she is. Mitzi is black with a tannish-brown face. She is one foot, eight inches tall.</span>&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote><span style="color: #38761d;">Mitzi never comes into the house with dirty feet. She lies on the rug and licks her feet. We give her a bath about three times a year.&nbsp;</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="color: #38761d;">She is a smart dog. In the morning when she wants to get in and Daddy is at work, she barks at the bedroom window and I let her in. She likes to lie on the lawn with me in the summertime. She is a very good cow dog. I will always lover her as long as I live.&nbsp;</span></blockquote>I'm sure I have a photo of my mom and Mitzi somewhere, but I can't seem to find it now. Until I locate that, here's another very sweet picture of her at play!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZhrKd96MYY0/UQdRIphUPFI/AAAAAAAAAzA/fmX3iGCS62A/s1600/scan0002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZhrKd96MYY0/UQdRIphUPFI/AAAAAAAAAzA/fmX3iGCS62A/s400/scan0002.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Becky Bartram on her tricycle!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq"></blockquote>Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-38057335103605916042013-01-24T00:03:00.000-08:002013-01-24T00:03:45.018-08:00Treasure Chest Thursday: Grandpa John's 1939 Treasure Island World's Fair Rodeo ProgramI've been looking for this for AGES!!! It's a program and day schedule for the 1939 Golden Gate International Exposition (aka World's Fair) World's Championship Rodeo at Treasure Island, San Francisco. But that's not all: the day schedule for Saturday night, May 13, 1939, lists my <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/04/happy-100th-birthday-to-grandpa-john.html">Grandpa John Bartram</a> along with several of his friends!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gnpd8UGfDO4/UQCvap3twYI/AAAAAAAAAxI/ESwr8oMJWis/s1600/TI+Rodeo+1939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gnpd8UGfDO4/UQCvap3twYI/AAAAAAAAAxI/ESwr8oMJWis/s400/TI+Rodeo+1939.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cYVBCwmQjIM/UQC1lICfQ2I/AAAAAAAAAx4/C2GSXyr8ygs/s1600/World+Fair+daily+program.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cYVBCwmQjIM/UQC1lICfQ2I/AAAAAAAAAx4/C2GSXyr8ygs/s400/World+Fair+daily+program.jpg" width="290" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dQ_kwcU5DXQ/UQCyl6P_9lI/AAAAAAAAAxg/jfvgjLsEfu8/s1600/TI+Rodeo+1939+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="143" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dQ_kwcU5DXQ/UQCyl6P_9lI/AAAAAAAAAxg/jfvgjLsEfu8/s400/TI+Rodeo+1939+A.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />I always knew that Grandpa and his brother, <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/tombstone-tuesday-raymond-dutch-bartram.html">Dutch</a>, rode in the World's Fair rodeo that year. He told us lots of stories about his <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/03/sports-center-saturday-rodeo.html">rodeo adventures</a>, and we have this photo of him riding in one of the World's Fair parades. But definitive and documented proof that he actually competed in any of the events had always eluded me.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zLLQYwe9F_g/TZlhfGfPGGI/AAAAAAAAARU/zzqPJU7mwio/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-04-03+at+11.12.42+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zLLQYwe9F_g/TZlhfGfPGGI/AAAAAAAAARU/zzqPJU7mwio/s400/Screen+shot+2011-04-03+at+11.12.42+PM.png" width="295" /></a></div><br />Well, <a href="http://www.ebay.com/">eBay</a> to the rescue! Every now and then, I head over to eBay and search for books or other ephemera that might be related to my ancestors (you'd be surprised how many of my kin made it into various historical books). A couple of months ago, I got it into my head to search for "Treasure Island 1939 rodeo" and up popped both the rodeo program and the schedule for one of the days that Grandpa John and his friends competed. Of course, I snapped them up immediately!<br /><br />In addition to listing Grandpa competing in the Brahma Bull riding competition, the day program also lists Uncle Dutch as one of the competitors for the whole event. There were several other exciting rodeo attractions on night of May 13, including the famous rodeo trick rider, actor and stuntman, <a href="http://www.prorodeohalloffame.com/inductees/by-category/contract-personnel/montie-montana/">Montie Montana</a>, as well as rodeo clown and bullfighter, <a href="http://www.prorodeohalloffame.com/inductees/by-category/contract-personnel/homer-holcomb/">Homer Holcomb</a>, and his Brahma Bull Chariot.<br /><br />To add to my delight, my eBay seller lives in San Francisco, and has offered to keep an eye out for any other Treasure Island rodeo ephemera for me. I *wish* the program still cost only 25 cents, but I feel like I got a bargain just by finding this <b><span style="color: #6aa84f;">actual</span></b> <span style="color: #6aa84f;"><b>treasure</b></span>!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lEEgA_pnJw0/TXsbBPOwcOI/AAAAAAAAAL4/d-Q9cYhojHw/s1600/517e7a43-d303-4d52-928b-0cba124db269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lEEgA_pnJw0/TXsbBPOwcOI/AAAAAAAAAL4/d-Q9cYhojHw/s320/517e7a43-d303-4d52-928b-0cba124db269.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandpa John, riding bronc in another rodeo</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I was so excited to finally put this documentation with Grandpa's World's Fair parade photo. I was even more happy to show it to my mom and the rest of Grandpa's family.<br /><br />Since coming across this amazing find, I've been digging even deeper for more information on Grandpa John's rodeo experience at Treasure Island. I subscribe to a couple of different online newspaper archives, including <a href="http://www.newspaperarchive.com/">NewspaperArchive</a>, and have now found further evidence of Grandpa competing in the rodeo, and being INJURED. Here's an article from the May 20, 1939, Oakland Tribune that mentions Grandpa John being gored behind the ear by the very bull he was riding, and being saved from further injury (or worse!) by the aforementioned rodeo clown, Homer Holcomb. Wow!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9VaHFTa7JaI/UQDXTxRnUsI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/Odz_auEnyLI/s1600/John+Bartram+hurt+at+TI+rodeo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9VaHFTa7JaI/UQDXTxRnUsI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/Odz_auEnyLI/s640/John+Bartram+hurt+at+TI+rodeo.png" width="284" /></a></div><br /><i>So, what's the lesson here?</i> I think it's to not just rely on Ancestry.com and Google searches and other more obvious places to find documentation about our ancestors' lives. Start searching in more unlikely places like eBay, or even <a href="http://shaking-leaves.blogspot.com/2011/01/finding-your-history-in-oddest-places.html">your local antique store</a>. You never know what you're going to find!<br /><br /><br />Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9072746418854500230.post-15143416455421161362013-01-20T09:56:00.000-08:002013-01-20T09:56:12.214-08:00Sentimental Sunday: My First Dog, Gow<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oczsde04euU/UPuHNpQ8acI/AAAAAAAAAwg/cLW92Jdhegg/s1600/Gow+and+Wendy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oczsde04euU/UPuHNpQ8acI/AAAAAAAAAwg/cLW92Jdhegg/s400/Gow+and+Wendy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Circa 1966</td></tr></tbody></table>I was looking through some old photos last night and found some of my very first dog, Gow. Mom and Dad got Gow, a Border Collie, when I was a baby, and he was quite a dog. He had such a sweet personality, and was good with us kids. I loved that puppy so much that I named a succession of stuffed dogs after my own Gow. I still have one of my ratty, old stuffed Gow dogs from when I was a toddler, and it sits at the foot of my bed as a reminder of my old furry friend.<br /><br />Like most Border Collies, Gow was smart as a whip, and talented, too. One of his favorite tricks was to ride our tricycle. It wasn't a trick we taught him, either. He just figured it out on his own. He'd put his front paws on the back of the trike, push with this back legs and steer with his nose. Eventually, as I recall, that tricycle pretty much became his own toy.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jxhkho0o_T0/UPuHNkeG-XI/AAAAAAAAAwk/TT4iTXZJMUY/s1600/Gow+on+trike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="393" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jxhkho0o_T0/UPuHNkeG-XI/AAAAAAAAAwk/TT4iTXZJMUY/s400/Gow+on+trike.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our talented Gow</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Sadly, Gowie didn't stay with us for long. We lived out in the country, and one night, when I was five or six years old, he was hit by a car on the road outside our house. That was such a sad time for us all, but Gow marked the beginning of our family's love of Border Collies.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cjin7sRbHeM/UPuHNg2blsI/AAAAAAAAAwo/nS0i4tOcoYU/s1600/Gow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cjin7sRbHeM/UPuHNg2blsI/AAAAAAAAAwo/nS0i4tOcoYU/s400/Gow.jpg" width="395" /></a></div><br />My mom now has the sweetest Border Collie you'll ever know, Blaise, and we've been lucky to have her in our lives for 13 years.<br /><br /><br />Wendy B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/13672025937069753108noreply@blogger.com2